


In Between

by irislim



Category: Veronica Mars (Movie 2014), Veronica Mars (TV), Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Genre: Action & Romance, Alternative Universe - FBI, F/M, Murder, Mystery, Reconciliation, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-20
Updated: 2015-09-01
Packaged: 2018-04-16 06:45:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 43,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4615269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irislim/pseuds/irislim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In an AU that follows the season-4-that-never-was, FBI agent Veronica Mars goes undercover at a Los Angeles night club to track down the people behind a string of drug-related crimes. When her path crosses with ex-flame Logan Echolls, she quickly realizes that it's not only her career at stake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Marines

"Hi, I'm Shannon," her voice chimed clear and sweet as she jerked out her hand like a sixteen-year-old on her first real job interview, "Shannon Mayfield. I'm so glad we'll get to work together. Maybe we can be friends!"

Sara's eyebrow lifted ever-so-sarcastically as her gaze ran her new colleague up and down in an obvious, appraising manner.

_Come on, Sara, let's play nice._

"What's your name?" The petite blond agent smiled innocently, lowering her unreciprocated hand as discreetly as possible.

"Sara," the girl behind the bar grunted,"and that's all you need to know."

With a smirk, she flipped around to resume working on the cocktails, her thick, brunette pony tail barely missing Veronica's face.

_Two years behind the desk sure spreads the rust._

"Oh, hi Sara. Maybe if you're not busy later, you can show me around the place? I mean, I've waited before, of course; but I've never been in a club as cool as this."

_Stop the eyelash-fluttering, Veronica, that only works on boys._

She waited another moment before Sara turned back around. The senior waitress plopped a tray of tall glasses on the bar between them - each filled with mysterious, fizzing neon blue liquid. She nudged the tray towards Veronica.

"Look, Shannon, or whatever-the-heck your name is. Make yourself useful. The Marines ain't a place to play the ditzy blond and hook a rich boyfriend. These men - " she cocked her head towards the general crowd, "they got wives and girlfriends to go back home to. We're just here to serve them drinks, alright? Now snap out of it, Cinderella."

With an exaggerated huff in the direction of her side-swept bangs, Veronica-as-Shannon promptly picked up the tray and weaved a path amongst the shiny, well-clad crowd.

She wasn't lying when she asked for directions around The Marines. FBI agent or not, she still didn't quite know the ropes around this place. With barely enough inside-info, this assignment had been considered risky, if not dangerous. With only a food service employment agency as the fed's connection, anyone placed inside the subterranean nightclub would pretty much be left to themselves - and, of course, their partner.

Partner - yeah, about that.

Having subtly placed her tray on to an unassuming cocktail stand, Veronica slipped into an unoccupied corner. Her right hand slipped beneath her straight, blond locks to raise her earpiece volume. She jumped.

"Not so loud!" she snapped with no attempt to disguise her anger.

"Sorry, partner, I had no choice. You weren't answering me back," the male voice on the line complained.

"It's loud in here, alright, Seth? I told you I'd beep you if I needed you. So stop panicking every other minute."

"It's hard not to when your  _partner_  doesn't answer."

"Well, fine,  _partner_ , I give you permission to leave me alone. They're not gonna tell a new waitress everything, okay? I'm not gonna figure this out in a day. You don't have to listen to every frickin' word I say."

"Sorry, gal, I kinda do."

Veronica exhaled in pure exasperation. What was she thinking by letting another ex-boyfriend be her assignment partner? But then again, the moment she heard about the 20-year-old who'd been raped and murdered after being dozed with GHB at The Marines, she knew there was no one else for the job. She had experience waiting tables, could look very young at will, and carried in her an unquenchable fire to find the killer. Besides, after two years behind the desk, she was itching to get on the field again. And if Seth was the only other agent senior enough and vacant enough to be assigned to this job, then so be it.

"Sorry, Seth, I get it. Just - don't stress, okay? Give me a moment. I just gotta serve some expensive drinks to entitled fools for a moment. Talk to you later."

She lowered the volume and squeezed out to reunite with her abandoned tray.

With perfect ease, Veronica glided between the clusters of said entitled fools currently enjoying themselves at the Los Angeles hotspot, giving glasses in exchange for bills along the way. The Marines was not exactly a popular nightclub in the populace's definition of the word. It was, however, the hiding place for many a millionaire's mistress, young heiresses' underage drinking, and secret celebrity hook-ups.

_And here we go, Veronica Mars. After a lifetime of running away from the 09ers, you are serving champagne in their backyard._

The shortlist of club owners given her may not have any Entertainment Weekly regulars on it, but she was certain each name had sufficient backstory for a front-page article. Phil Morris, Douglas Marks, Barry Hearn - she ruminated each name in her mind as she served her second round of drinks. She had been told about two other investors who had tried to keep their involvement incognito. The complete list would be sent over in a couple of days, but she was anxious to know before then.

_Nothing shouts guilt like a secret benefactor._

"Hey, Shannon, two o'clock."

Veronica almost jumped at the sudden voice to her right; Sara leaned close with a smirk on her face.

_Gotta re-sharpen those stealth skills._

Turning her eyes to Sara's indicated direction, Veronica spotted three tall figures exchanging handshakes. A frosted-glass sliding door intercepted her view two seconds later.

"Who are those?" Veronica whispered, all youthful curiosity in her tone. Sara, never one to waste a minute, had already moved forward with her own tray, leaving Veronica to play catch up behind her.

"Working at The Marines means keeping secrets, buddy. You hear nothing; you see nothing." The senior waitress did her rounds masterfully as she spoke.

"Okay?" Veronica struggled to keep her ear turned towards Sara's low whispers as the latter swivelled from side to side in a familiar path.

"And you don't react if any guest tries to interact with someone else, even if the other person appears unwilling."

_This is interesting._

"I see."

"But there are some exceptions."

Veronica almost crashed into Sara when the taller brunette stopped abruptly.

With another smirk, Sara leaned in to instruct, "Those men in the room? They own this place. No one talks to them unless they're invited into the Red Room. If you see someone coming at them, you block the way. Understand?"

Veronica nodded, willing every muscle in her face to convey simple obedience.

"See? You're smarter than you let on, girl." Sara laughed. With an adept twist of her body, she did her magic at the bar and presented Veronica with a fresh tray of drinks; this time, each one different. "The orange one is for Mr. Marks, the curly-haired one in a khaki-colored suit. The kiwi fizz is for Mr. Larkin; you may know him from the movies. The black coffee's for Mr. Lester, tall one in black. Got it?"

A second passed before Veronica realized what she had just been ordered to do.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good, now go."

She lifted the tray, smiled, and took the path to glory.

_Hard work means good intel. On the field, I've long sworn by the standard that any piece of information is best measured by the difficulty of its procurement. It couldn't really be this easy, could it?_

Veronica feigned calm as she finally paused outside the sliding door. A tall, muscled guard to her left lifted an item that humorously resembled a barcode reader and scanned her name tag. With a nod from the man, the door slid open for Shannon Mayfield.

Her eyes quickly took in the interiors of the mysterious Red Room - modern back lighting, golden patterns on rich crimson wallpaper, spacious seats, and a generous metal-framed table. Three men sat leisurely on the big, luscious furniture. Two were facing her, while the other showed only the back of his head.

Remembering where she was, Veronica quickly sported a polite smile - not too warm, but not too stilted. She walked over to the table and placed the drinks in front of their corresponding owners. Mr. Marks, Mr. Larkin -

_Thank God Connor Larkin won't remember every other standard issue fangirl._

When she turned with the last drink in her hand, the tall man in black whose face she had not yet seen was now standing straight in front of her.

She looked up.

She gulped.

"Mr. Lester," she squeaked.


	2. Mr. Lester

_Nothing like a married friend to help embrace the joys of bachelorhood._

Logan almost smirked at his own thoughts as Douglas ranted about his wife - her shopping habits, her phone bills, and her expensive schedule of pilates and art classes. As much as they'd like to fool themselves that their Red Room gatherings were all about discussing how The Marines was faring, each man in the room knew full well that the walls were just a shelter from reality, a sanctuary where wives and girlfriends and paparazzi could be dismissed from their thoughts for a moment.

Logan leaned back on his high-back, cushioned chair. Last night had been particularly bad. That ditzy college blond apparently didn't understand what a one-night stand meant. Thank heavens he hadn't brought her to his actual home. Watching her rummage the hotel living room for his address had been simultaneously annoying and creepy.

"See, Doug, that's why Logan and I here don't get hitched," Connor Larkin's voice cut through the conversation.

Logan scoffed and nodded towards his old friend, acknowledging the sentiment. But a quick twist of his chair had him noticing the crestfallen expression on Douglas Marks's face.

"Seriously, Doug, it can't be that bad, can it?" Logan piped, tapping his fingers together.

"Well, I guess there are some nice things." Douglas's tall form slumped almost pathetically as he conceded, "It's nice to go home to something you can expect, you know? You know she's there and you know she's yours. Dinner's usually prepared. And when social events come up, you know you'll have a hot wife on your arm instead of an embarrassing bimbo."

Logan smirked at the last line, as did Connor. Who could forget the ridiculous blond model that had been on Mr. Lester's arm on the day of The Marines' soft opening three years ago?

_I'm never gonna live that one down._

Behind him, the sliding door screeched open. Even first-class materials run down.

Evidently thirsty, the three business partners lounged silently, waiting for their drinks. Logan swivelled his chair slightly to the left.

His heart instantly jumped to his throat. Knowing his penchant for blonds, the agency had sent over its share of golden-haired waitresses over time. This one, however, even with her back to him, looked just too much like - like  _her._

The straight blond locks that grazed her shoulders, the fitted vest that framed her waist, and the calm grace with which the small lady moved with the drinks triggered flashbacks to sweet summer moments at the Java Hut. Had it really been just 8 years ago?

Subconsciously, Logan's eyes trailed from the small white knees in front of him up to the soft shoulders, neck, and her - it  _is_  her. A warmth of familiarity pervaded his every sense as he drew a deep breath. This was no look-a-like or replacement. The lady in front of him was the very one he had never managed to forget. The world had but one Veronica Mars.

Instinctively, he pulled to his feet, anxious to meet her on equal ground. She turned towards him, coffee in hand.

_She's as beautiful as ever._

Their eyes met, and she instantly stiffened. His heart pounded wildly against his chest.

"Mr. Lester," she said.

"Hi," Logan fought to keep his voice level. He stole a glance at her shimmering name tag. "Shannon, is it?"

"Yes. Yes, sir."

_She must be on assignment. Have to think fast._

Surprising his companion, Logan swiftly reached for the cup of black coffee and gulped down its contents. He grimaced.

"This is not the right brew, Shannon. You know I ordered Blue Mountain, right?" he snapped.

"I'm - I'm sorry," she looked calm, but he knew better. "I'm sorry, sir."

"Dude, be nice to her, okay? She looks new." Connor's statement was half-spoken and half-laughed as he pulled himself from the couch. "I'm gonna make my rounds. You know I'm no fan of your big-boss moments."

Connor slipped outside the room, Douglas at his heels.

"If my wife asks, I came here with Phil, okay?" Doug turned right before he stepped out. "Show some mercy there. We don't need yet another one fired."

And with that, he left the two former lovers face to face in a quiet, private room.

* * *

A mixture of relief and anxiety churned in Veronica's belly.

_Thank God he's as smart as he's always been._

One thought of the gentleman in front of her, however, immediately turned her a soft hue of pink. She placed the empty coffee cup on the table, trying hard to avoid the intensity in his eyes.

"Shannon Mayfield?" The inquisitive, easy tone of his voice helped her to relax.

"Mr. Logan Lester?" She looked up at him with a lift of the eyebrow.

"Lance Lester, actually; wouldn't want any more recognition that there already is." Logan slid his hands into his pockets, obviously taking a more casual tone.

Veronica smiled. "If that's the case, I'm not surprised that the full list of investors for this place was so difficult to find."

Logan laughed briefly. "Indeed. I find it quite surprising, however, that your job would bring you here."

Veronica bit her lip. "Are we alone?" she asked with a nod to the walls.

"Surveillance camera, yes; but audio bugs, no," Logan responded as he plopped back in his chair. "Please, do have a seat. My partners think I'm scolding yet another clueless new staff member in here, so they'll steer clear for a while."

_Alone in Logan's workplace with no one to bear witness for it._

Not feeling particularly wise, Veronica pulled over a small rolling chair for herself. Impulsively, she slid a hand behind her to flick her walkie-talkie off.

_Sorry, Seth, explain to you later._

Logan broke the silence. "I've heard, of course, that you've joined a - uhm, a prestigious organization."

Veronica gave a quick nod.

"But I thought you've been behind the desk the past couple of years?"

_How exactly did he know?_

"Yes, actually," she opted for the truth. "I didn't want the risk of being on the field after - "

"Your father got cancer," he finished for her.

Surprised at his knowledge, she quirked an eyebrow. A brief expression of guilt quickly shadowed his face.

"I - I have sources in Neptune," he explained. "I live in LA now, but you know, home is - home."

_And my father is part of home - how?_

"Yeah, I know." She'd grill him another day.

A moment of silence crept by as Veronica played with the edges of her vest. She had confronted numerous criminals before, but her current level of nervousness remained inexplicable. She stole a glance at Logan's physique. He looked strong - older but better - like the successful young man she was sure he was. The black shirt fit him to a tee, showing off his chiseled form.

"So - I figured there must be a reason I'm talking to Shannon Mayfield in the Red Room of my club," Logan leaned forward as he spoke. She couldn't help noticing the mere two feet between them. "Care to explain?"

"I don't owe you an explanation, Mr. Lester," she curtly replied.

Logan smirked. "I know. That's why I asked nicely."

Veronica bit her lip to hold in her laugh. He still knew her well.

"But, I also know that any information you need about The Marines could be much more easily accessed if you had the help of someone in charge, preferably an owner." A hint of victory toyed with Logan's voice, making it sound just so much more manly.

Veronica pursed her lips. Should she let him help? If a murderous drug-dealer was truly on the loose in this club, then Logan's assistance would be invaluable. At the same time, taking into confidence a club owner on the very first day of the assignment was not exactly protocol.

"I don't know, Mr. Lester - "

"It's Logan."

Her eyes darted to his face, and she was immediately captured by the sincerity in his gaze. He was smiling at her, calmly and genuinely. He was happy to see her; and why shouldn't she be happy to see him?

"Okay, uhm, Logan," she recovered. "I know you want to help, but I - I can't just decide this on my own."

Logan nodded, relaxing back against his chair. "You have to ask your boss, or your partner."

"Uhm, yes, my partner." Veronica colored at the thought of what she had just done. Quietly, she reached back to turn on her line of communication.

"Where did you go!" Seth's voice came booming over her earpiece. Veronica physically pulled away.

"I'm sorry, I - I was talking to someone." She stammered, trying to steady her shaky voice.

"Yes, you were talking to the owners," Seth complained over the line, "and you turned me right off then. What did you expect me to think?"

"Well, I - I met someone I knew."

"Who's at the club?"

"Who's an owner of the club, actually." Veronica could sense Logan gauging every word she said. "And he's - he's offered to help with the investigation."

"You told him about the case?"

"No, I didn't; but he offered anyway." The situation's lack of logic was slowly revealing itself to her.

"Why would he do that?"

"Cuz - he's a friend?" Veronica bit her lip. Logan smirked openly at her discomfort.

"So we should trust him just for that? Which one is it - Hearn, Marks, or Morris?"

"None of the above. It's actually one of the mystery investors."

"Agent Mars, you know they're the primary suspects - "

"It's Logan Echolls," she blurted out, a thrill zapping through her as she uttered his full name for the first time in years. "He goes by Lance Lester here, and he wants to help. And - and I trust him to help me - us."

The irritation was obvious in Seth Perkins's reply. "And how is your ex-boyfriend supposed to want to help us? He owns the club you're trying to bring down, Veronica."

"I know," she almost whispered now, "but I know he'll want to get to the bottom of this too, okay?"

"Veronica, no, I can't allow you to - "

She shut him off with the flip of a switch.

_I knew having him as a partner was a bad idea. No thanks, Agent Stone. And heck, I could care less what Seth thinks. I've never been one to live for an audience - except for proving them wrong._

Veronica detached her earpiece and placed it flat on her lap. She sat up and faced the only other person in the room.

"Okay, I'll let you help."

Logan smiled. "Okay, what do you need to know?"

"I'm not comfortable discussing the details of the case here, Logan."

"Fair enough, but this is the most private room in the club."

"Could you meet me outside the club somewhere?"

Logan knitted his eyebrows together. "Not unless you're willing to let people think otherwise."

Veronica cocked her head in inquisition.

Logan sighed. "As long as we talk in the Red Room, people will consider it business. Anywhere else - and it'll appear otherwise."

_Otherwise._

Veronica breathed deep as the meaning of the word dawned on her.

"I wouldn't mind it," Logan continued, now regaining his casual tone. "I have no girlfriend, no wife, and no one but the paps to care. But you - is there a special someone you have to go home to?"

_Lungs, please breathe properly._

"No, I don't," Veronica shot back. "But what would the other owners say?"

"They won't bother. They know I like blonds." Logan sounded almost too matter-of-fact. "But they don't know that it's all because of the one pesky little blond that I can't forget after all these years."

Her heart raced with a sudden and warm agitation.

"And you would allow them to think so?"

Logan shrugged. "I'm a club owner. You're a club employee. I like what I see, and you enjoy the perks. There's nothing out of the ordinary with the arrangement. What would be so bad about that?"

In spite of the ease with which he spoke, Logan's tense shoulders betrayed a pint of hope and agitation.

_Yes, and what would be so bad about that?_

Every last nerve in Veronica's body prodded her to decline the offer. Be he Logan Echolls or Lance Lester, the man before her was a club owner, and thus a suspect. She couldn't allow herself to be involved. But then again, he never said anything about getting back together for real.

"Okay," her voice escaped her. "I guess it'll work."

The smile that spread on Logan's face had her almost instantly regretting her response. Was he thinking all this was for real?

"Mr. Lester!" a voice bellowed at the door. Both individuals jumped to their feet.

"Yes?" Logan asked. The door slid open in response.

"Sir, we've found another one in the alley."


	3. Layered Secrets

Lights, music, dancers, drinks, and colors blurred into a nightmare. Ignoring everything her alter ego was supposed to be, Veronica followed closely behind Logan as he led them through every twist and corner of The Marines. After a minute's worth of hallways, doors, and stairways, they tumbled together into a dimly-lit, industrial alley.

Then Veronica gasped.

In stark contrast with the dirty, uneven ground, a young female body in a silver dress lay limp and lifeless. Deep marks on her neck left no doubt of how she had met her demise. With no purse or jewelry on her, robbery was a foregone conclusion.

Beginning in her lungs, a deep flame of anger spread through every fiber of Veronica's being. She didn't have to wait for a forensics test to know that she was standing right in front of yet another GHB victim.

"Mr. Lester, should I inform the police?" the guard from the Red Room asked, his voice emotionless.

For the first time, Veronica noticed Logan's clenched fists and dark expression right beside her. His breath was deep and heavy. He appeared as angry as she. But did he know something she didn't?

"Mr. Lester?"

"Did anyone call Hearn and Morris?" Logan's level, commanding tone was something she had never heard from him before.

"Yes, sir. And Mr. Larkin and Mr. Marks. They all requested for you."

Logan sighed.

"Call the cops. And don't touch anything," he ordered.

"Yes, Mr. Lester." The three other body guards present quickly stationed themselves in a triangle around the crime scene while the one who spoke picked up a phone. "And what should we do with her, sir?" He gestured towards Veronica.

_Stupid Veronica, they don't know who you are._

One cue, tears welled in her eyes and threatened to overflow. Her breath shortened increasingly before she shut her eyes and collapsed.

* * *

"Veronica, you can wake up now," Logan spoke gently as he nudged the sleeping form in the passenger seat of his sleek, dark convertible.

Veronica stirred, stretched, and snuggled back against the seat.

_She looks more trusting of the seat than of me._

Logan smiled in spite of himself. Instead of running far away at their sudden re-acquaintance, Veronica had sat down calmly to speak with him tonight. She had agreed to let him help her without an extensive interrogation. He already had so much to be thankful for.

Having quickly recognized her fainting ruse, he had volunteered to "take care" of her at The Marines tonight. She fell asleep soon after she was placed in the car. The employees left them alone; they always did. Nine out of ten times, Logan never even kissed the drunk women he left The Marines with; but the staff didn't have to know that. If presumed promiscuity allowed him privacy, he'd take it.

Tonight, however, things were different.

Tonight, he was actually with someone he cared for - way more than he probably should.

"Veronica," he nudged her shoulder again. He battled the urge to caress her cheek.

Veronica stirred more thoroughly this time. As if in bed on a Sunday morning, she stretched slowly, laying out her full form before her companion's eyes.

Logan took a very deep breath.

Then, as if someone flicked a light switch, Veronica jumped upright, forced down only by the taut seatbelt.

Logan laughed.

"It's okay, Veronica. I brought you home."

"Home?" Veronica looked around her surroundings.

Logan unbuckled himself and twisted to face her. He pointed to the apartment in front of them. "I'm not sure if this is home to Miss Mars or Miss Mayfield, but I'm pretty sure this is the address on your employee records and current driver's license."

Veronica looked up at the row of two-floor, brown apartments. Then she sighed.

"Is this home to neither?" he asked.

"Shannon lives here," she finally replied. Her eyes looked empty and tired as she stared straight ahead. "But so do imbedded recording devices that Seth and Agent Stone can tap at any time."

"I see."

Veronica stretched and wrung her arms. "Anywhere else you could let me crash for the night?"

_You don't know what you're asking, Ronnie._

"I could drop you off at a hotel some - "

"How about your place?" Veronica interrupted.

Logan felt too many emotions all at the same time to even care about how they converged on his face.

Veronica laughed. "I mean - I don't mean to do anything. I'll crash on the couch. I - "

"Of course," he finally managed. "I wouldn't expect otherwise."

He fastened his seatbelt and faced the wheel, looking everywhere except at her.

He shifted to drive. "But I'll take the couch."

* * *

"Is this where you take all your conquests?"

Veronica spread her arms and turned around dramatically in the living room of Logan's luxury flat. Warm layers of light, peeping out from false ceilings and wall panels, enshrouded her in a very foreign yet very cozy feeling.

_I just called myself a conquest. Snap out of it, girl!_

"Just kidding, I don't want to hear about all the bimbos who frequent this place," she trailed off as she dropped on the rich white leather loveseat. She forced a grin, hoping Logan would ignore her poor attempt at humor. The fifteen-minute drive from her apartment had been so laden with awkward small talk that she almost thought any change in the conversation was welcome.

Seemingly more relaxed in his natural habitat, Logan stepped casually towards the opposite sofa with his hands in his pocket. His black outfit defined his form sharply against the muted colors of his apartment.

"Believe it or not, the female gender is rarely represented within these walls. Unless you count the housekeeper." Logan smiled as he sat down and threw back his head against the soft fabric.

"Logan Echolls with no lovelife? The tabloids would go bankrupt."

"Very true, and just because I'm nice enough, I make sure to give them a living." For a moment, Logan almost smirked like a school boy. "As long as they see me with a lady or two here and there about town, they wouldn't need to track me here."

"Ah, the price of fame." Veronica's words were sarcastic, but her tone was playful enough to ease their sting.

Logan smiled.

"Anyway." She patted a throw pillow next to her. "Thanks for letting me crash here for tonight. I'm not exactly in the mood to talk to my - uhm, colleague."

"Seth, you mean, your ex-boyfriend."

Veronica did a double take.

_How did he -_

"Mac's my business partner. You know that. She told me all about him, but I thought you guys broke up in Quantico."

"Yes, we did." Unable to resist, she added, "And we broke up in Hearst, Logan."

"Yes," Logan paused. A bit of pain tugged his next words. "Of course we did."

Veronica closed her eyes. Why did she ever think coming here was a good idea? Logan, emotional at his core, would never let their past slide by without at least an honorable mention.

"Anyway, what's going on, Ronnie?" The ease of his words surprised her. "Maybe you could shed light on this unexpected mass reunion of Veronica Mars's ex-flames? I don't need an essay, you know, just a header, maybe."

She opened her eyes and focused on him for a moment. Seated on his own couch, in a simple but expensive outfit, with an honesty to his gaze - this was Logan Echolls. In front of her was a tabloid victim, a college drop-out, and a messed-up Hollywood brat who defied the odds to become a strong and successful businessman in his own right. He was a survivor, and she had no right to treat him as anything else.

"I'm sorry, Logan, I wasn't thinking right."

"When are you?"

"More often than you." She smiled back at the now-friendly expression on his face. Maybe this could work, after all. Logan may have belonged to a darker part of her past, but who was she to condemn? She wasn't one to dwell too much on the past - at least, she'd like to think so.

"Well?" Logan's voice cut through her thoughts.

Veronica cleared her throat at the cue and began softly, "Two weeks ago, when the rape and murder of Tanya Smith hit the news, we received information that something had enabled her murderers to have such easy access to an otherwise smart girl. With her father's brewery empire, she practically grew up under guard. But that night, she was incapacitated enough to be isolated and attacked. She was at The Marines right before her death, and we believe - "

"That she got the GHB there."

Veronica nodded.

"We have sources that say the drug is being provided in The Marines by someone in a high level of management. We had to confirm."

"And you volunteered."

"In a heartbeat."

It was Logan's turn to nod. He leaned forward, elbows on knees, prompting her to continue.

"At that time, I still didn't know you or Connor were part of the investment team. But, even with the incomplete information, we were racing too much against the clock to wait. I didn't want another girl to fall victim. But tonight - " Veronica shuddered as her mind revisited the last thing she saw before she left The Marines. "It was too late."

Logan closed his eyes for a few seconds. "We'll make sure it won't happen again."

Veronica bit her lip and nodded.

"And that's how Shannon Mayfield came to be?"

"Yeah, we figured that with my experience, a waitress would be the best entry point." She relished the opportunity to put aside the painful images in her mind. "Besides, after two years behind the desk, I was anxious to jump back in."

Logan locked his eyebrows.

"As you seem to have heard, I'd promised my dad when he was diagnosed with stomach cancer that I wouldn't put myself at risk again. His surgery may have been successful; but he's been a worrier ever since. If you are in touch with anyone at Neptune at all," Veronica reached out and placed a hand over his, "please, please don't tell them."

Logan clenched his jaw for a moment.

Then he squeezed her hand and let go, leaning back against the sofa.

"Okay."

"Thank you."

A few seconds ticked by.

He broke the silence. "And how does, uhm, Seth fit into this? Since I'll be working with you, should I report to him too?"

Veronica huffed. "Seth was the only agent available to partner with at the time. If Agent Stone hadn't given me an ultimatum, I would never have allowed it. Seth is just too - too much of a nag."

Logan laughed at her almost teenage rhetoric.

"And no, you don't have to answer to him," she added with a smile.

* * *

_And that's Veronica Mars._

Just like that, with a few simple words, an epiphany into the very fiber of Veronica's being had washed over Logan like a morning wave. Maybe he had lost her all those years ago because he had been demanding something of her that was virtually impossible. Work would always be higher on the priority list to her than any human relationship - positive or negative. And he would have a much easier time keeping his heart in check if he lived with that fact.

"And ladies and gentleman, there we have Veronica Mars," Logan teased with a smile. "Work before play; and work before love, hate, and all other petty human emotions. Seriously, who needs those? I've got to hand that one to you, Ronnie."

Veronica smiled back tentatively. "I honestly wonder if that's a compliment or a jab."

Logan cocked his head. "Consider it stating the obvious."

She smiled back again.

_And here we go again. God knows I'm a sucker for that smile._

When a yawn from Veronica interrupted his thoughts, Logan pulled himself up from the sofa.

"You've had a long day. I'll go ready the bed. The sheets should be fresh. Sorry that I don't keep a guest room; I didn't want Trina to find it too convenient."

Logan stopped when he felt a small hand on his wrist as he passed by the loveseat on the way to his bedroom.

"Logan, I don't want to be more trouble for you than I already am." Her voice was simple and straightforward. She looked up at him. "I said I'll crash on the couch; so I will. Thanks for letting me come here tonight."

"No, really, Ronnie, it's okay. I'll sleep out here - "

"I insist." And with that line came her puppy dog eyes and patented pout.

_Logan Echolls, you are pathetic._

"Okay, have it your way." Logan smiled politely.

She smiled back.

Then, surprising him, she stood up and wrapped her arms around his chest. He was too astonished to squeeze her back before she let go.

"Thanks, Logan," she stepped back as she spoke, no sarcasm in her voice. "I know I literally crashed into your life tonight in more ways than one. Thanks for being cool about it."

_Guess I'm a better actor than I thought._

"No problem," he managed to answer with a sincere smile while his heart rate struggled to re-establish its rhythm. Walking over to the beautiful view of the city, he pulled a soft blanket from the bay window. "Maybe you'll at least allow this bit of hospitality?" He lifted it up.

She smiled and grabbed it from him. "Sure."

Unsure of what to do after handing it over, he plugged one hand back in his pocket while scratching behind his neck with the other. "So, uhm - the powder room is that door over there, and I'll let you know when the shower's free tomorrow. You can get water from the kitchen any time you want. Glasses are above the sink. That is, uhm - if you can reach the cabinet."

He couldn't help going for that one.

Veronica laughed. "Thanks a lot, Goliath, but I'll manage."

Logan nodded with a grin - a sheepish one, he was sure.

"So, uhm - goodnight, Veronica?"

"Goodnight, Logan."

Content with the smile she gave him, he promptly entered his room.

As he stepped into the adjoining space, a small part of him longed to leave the door ajar, just to feel that little bit closer to her.

_And, of course, fantasize that she'll sneak in and wake me up with kisses._

He glanced over his shoulder to find her working on her phone. With a sigh, he gently closed the door.

Yes, she had come crashing into his life in a multitude of ways tonight. But there was nothing he wanted more desperately than having her back. And this time - this time that heaven finally had mercy on him - he couldn't afford to lose her again.

In the dark, Logan leaned his head back against his own bedroom door.

_Let's just hope she'll still stay once she knows the truth._

* * *

Veronica turned off her cellphone and tossed it on the coffee table. She had done her part and informed Seth of her safety. She would deal with his nagging tomorrow.

Seated on the same spot she had occupied for the last half hour, she buried her face in her hands. Tonight had been too overwhelming - the club, the owners, the murder, and - Logan. There had been simply too many surprises.

Veronica smirked. She could barely admit to herself that in the midst of all the surprises, Logan had been the most pleasant. He had not pushed her about anything romantic, he had respected her distance, and he had even offered his help unconditionally.

This Logan she liked.

_People don't believe me when I say that I started life as an optimist. What they don't realize is that optimists may be corrupted; pessimists stay that way. It's an unfortunate result of the law of entropy._

But maybe, once in a while, something could defy the odds.


	4. Pals and Partners

"Mornin', Walter Mitty, got those shoes yet?"

The sound of drinks clinking each other made Veronica turn around to Sara's judgmental eyebrows, one raised much higher than the other. She glanced at the tray that had just been pushed in front of her.

"I'm sorry," said Shannon's ditzy voice, "I wasn't paying attention."

Veronica tried a small giggle.

"Figures." Sara had a hand on her hip and another on the bar. "It's kinda hard serving cocktails when you're busy makin' eye babies with the boss."

Veronica blushed in spite of herself. It was just a shared glance, really, before Logan slipped into the Red Room; but maybe she hadn't been as discreet as she thought.

_Better play it safe though._

"I don't know what you're talking about." Veronica giggled as she lifted the tray on to the bar and made her way to the opposite side.

_Nothing says, "tell me more" like denial does._

"You wanted your prince, and I guess you found one," Sara spoke as she wiped glasses with the precision and speed of a well-oiled machine. "I'm surprised. Mr. Lester's 'dates' don't tend to last long around here."

"Oh? He takes a lot of girls home?" She just had to ask.

"Here and there," Sara huffed, quickly counting the glasses she'd wiped, "they usually disappear soon, since he's an eternal bachelor. You're the longest one yet. Congratulations, princess, guess your fairy godmother showed up just in time to sprinkle fainting powder on you."

Veronica didn't miss the sarcasm in Sara's comments. Unromantic though she be, matter-of-fact Sara did notice a lot of things. Shannon Mayfield's sudden fainting spell, Mr. Lester's rescue, and his quick pardon for how she had followed him to the alley last week did paint an inevitable damsel-in-distress scenario.

"I'll serve these drinks." Veronica took off, trying to ignore the disdain on Sara's face.

Veronica's mind refused to calm down as she maneuvered between clusters of people in the now-familiar club. Even if it had just been a quick question, there was something vaguely uncomfortable about using Sara to gain insight into Logan's life. It wasn't that she couldn't keep herself updated with his habits over the years. Nothing spells access to information like F, B, and I. She had to admit, albeit unwillingly, that refusing to check up on him had been a deliberate choice.

_The thing is, keeping tabs on someone - no matter how casually done - means running the risk that someone significant to you has ceased to find you significant to him. And as much as I like risks, those aren't my type._

Add the occasional tabloid cover to the equation, and one gets Veronica Mars in her full-throttle stoicism.

Veronica almost jumped when she felt a strong hand grip her upper arm. She fought every instinct to turn and punch her aggressor in the face and, instead, slowly looked behind her.

In the many shadows caused by the club lights, she vaguely made out Logan's form. His free hand motioned for her to be quiet.

She nodded, acknowledging his presence. He tugged her - drinks and all - into the corner after him.

* * *

The distance was just a few strides for him, but probably many more for Veronica, as they stepped passed several corners partially covered by shimmering curtains. The Marines was laid out in the form on an amoeba, with crooks and curves galore. The floor plan provided privacy for the many tabloid-sought customers, and it also made the underground club look more spacious than it was.

After two more turns, they stopped in front of a wall painted in postmodern patterns of black and white. Veronica placed her tray on a side table nearby.

Logan checked around him; then he quickly placed his palm flat on a black polygon on the wall. The polygon instantly transformed into a screen of numbers.

"Scan complete. Please enter access code," a barely-audible voice announced from a hidden speaker.

_7580-0922-8371-2311_

Logan procured the 16-digit code from memory as he pressed the numbers. His peripheral vision caught a small smile on Veronica's face. He turned and quirked an eyebrow. "Someone told me the best codes are completely random," he quipped.

She smiled just a little wider.

After a mandatory five seconds, a section of the wall - just one meter in width - slid magically open.

Logan could hear a small gasp from Veronica as they quickly stepped into the dark space that was 90% screens and gadgets. The wall sealed back behind them.

_I'll impress you yet._

There were two tiny pin lights in the very contained space, but sufficient light poured in every direction from the 50 screens laid out all over. The long desk in front of them was almost completely covered in monitors, keyboards, and countless other peripherals. Logan pulled out one of the two swivel chairs present and placed himself in the other.

"Welcome to the security hub." He gestured around him with a smile on his face. Veronica looked almost impressed. He could get used to this. "I should've taken you here sooner, but it's almost impossible to keep everyone out."

Veronica slowly sat down on the empty chair while her eyes continued to take in every image on every screen - live encounters from every corner of The Marines. She nodded slowly.

Logan glanced at his watch. "We have ten minutes. I'll play you what you need. It might take lesser men longer to find out that there was no real bomb threat, but our team would be done in ten."

Well-prepared, he nimbly pressed a few keys. The screens in front of them merged into one big image.

"The security team uses an encryption that disallows any copies to be made of the files. So we can only play it here," he explained as he typed in password after password. "We also don't keep any footage here that's older than a week, and I currently don't have an excuse to retrieve the files from Hearn."

"He keeps the old files?"

Logan's heart skipped at the first time he heard her voice for the evening.

_How does she keep doing this to me?_

"We all keep something different for calculated leverage and accountability," Logan answered, trying to concentrate. "Each owner gets his own thing. I keep the land titles of The Marines; Morris is the manager; Marks's law firm provides legal counsel; Hearn keeps the security tapes; and Larkin keeps all the financial records."

Veronica nodded. A new image loaded on the screen.

"And this," Logan stood as he spoke, "is the footage from the evening Ashley Lu was attacked."

Veronica jumped up instantly, her eyes glued to the screen.

_Man, she's hot when she's investigating._

His eyes trailed down her petite frame and how she leaned forward so intensely with her hands on the desk. His mind travelled back for a brief moment at how she had first helped him with finding his mom all those years ago, then of how she helped him identify Trina's boyfriend, and then how he had helped her not get dragged into a Camelot Motel room with a dishonest federal agent - and, of course, what all that had led to.

_Almost ten years, Logan Echolls, and you're still as smitten as you've ever been._

He tried to turn back to the screen.

Veronica seemed to know just when he did.

"She's been with him all night," she pointed out at the dancing couple on the screen. "Ashley was a 21-year-old grad student, not quite the heiress like Tanya; but with her father's law legacy, she was a well-known party girl who had her share of admirers. This guy, however, seems to be particularly taken with her. They've danced three songs together already, and he's whispering in her ear."

Logan nodded, trying to follow her words.

_I'd love to whisper in your ear, my dear._

"Tanya was raped before she was murdered. Ashley wasn't. Instead, when we found her in the alley, there was three grand in cash missing from her wallet, and all her jewelry - worth another two grand - was all gone. Do you think the security team could've gotten them first before calling you?"

"No," Logan responded. "They're paid well; we've never had problems. And honestly? If they were to take anything, a dead GHB victim would be too attention-grabbing of a target. There are plenty of other careless millionaires to steal from around here."

"Okay." Veronica continued to study the screen.

_She's taking my word at face value for once? Wow, bring out the champagne, man._

Trying to contribute, Logan scrutinized Ashley's dance partner on the screen.

"He doesn't look like he needs the money either," he remarked. "His watch alone would buy a house, and that Armani beauty is too well-tailored to have been borrowed."

Veronica smiled for a bit, probably amused at his observations. "I agree."

The two watched in silence as Ashley parted with the mystery man. When the man turned to leave the dance floor, he glanced up at the camera for a brief moment.

Veronica and Logan caught their breath collectively.

Logan exhaled first. He looked at Veronica.

"It's not him," he whispered, carefully observing her face.

She relaxed and nodded, her eyes never leaving the screen for a moment.

Logan sighed.

_I should never have made friends with Mercer Hayes. A look-a-like today, a nightmare tomorrow. She deserves relief._

A minute later, Ashley stood up from her seat on screen, her gait extremely erratic. Her arms flailed while she moved, and her footing took several steps to secure. Another minute later, she stumbled out of The Marines.

"Was it in her drink?" Veronica asked out loud.

Logan quickly rewinded the footage. Ashley had only taken one cocktail, a standard glass directly off the normal rounds. Several others had gotten similar drinks from the same tray with no effect.

Next to him, Veronica knitted her brow.

"Scan complete. Please enter access code." A soft female voice penetrated the small room.

They both jumped. Logan glanced at his watch.

"Shoot, I lost track of time!" He looked up apologetically. "We have about eight seconds. I have reason to be here, but not you."

Logan quickly restored the screens to their normal surveillance modes. Together, they scanned the room in vain for hiding places, even for someone as small as Veronica.

One number at a time, they listened to the access code being punched in.

_Five seconds left._

Logan looked back at Veronica. She looked as uncertain as he felt.

_Should I, should I -_

On an impulse, he grabbed her by the shoulders and pressed her against the back wall. He picked up her hands and placed them on him - one on his waist and the other on his shoulder. He leaned down close to her ear.

"Don't scream," he whispered.

As the door slid open, he attached his lips to her neck.

* * *

Veronica gasped involuntarily as the warmth that started on her neck flooded through every single nerve she owned. Her eyes fluttered close. Her arms pulled him closer, pressing her body tightly against his. He responded instantly, his hands weaving around her and pressing her close. Suddenly, there was something extremely difficult about standing upright.

Logan's kisses were not deep or intense, but the soft, tender movement of his wet lips on her skin wiped off every coherent thought. Within two seconds, she was kissing him back, her own punctuated kisses trailing down behind his ear. Their faces turned towards each other, never stopping their train of kisses.

When their mouths connected, there was no nightclub, no security hub, and no inopportune employee. There was no Lance Lester or Shannon Mayfield. She tried to form her thoughts, but only one came -

_Don't stop. Do not stop._

A deep moan escaped from Logan's throat, causing her limbs to shudder. Their lips parted; their tongues met. Suddenly, there was no more pretense, and their bodies snaked around each other like they always did.

Somewhere behind Logan, a faceless security officer mumbled something highly akin to "Sorry, excuse me," but she was too pre-occupied to find out.

Logan's tongue caressing hers, Logan's hands wandering up her sides, and Logan's firm body pushing her up against the wall - there was no other thing in the world. There was nothing else that mattered.

But a minute and a dozen kisses later, he set her gently on the ground and pulled away.

_Logan, why -_

Her thoughts halted at the expression on his face. His eyebrows were low, his eyes pained, and his lips pressed together; he looked - guilty. Did he never mean for that to happen?

Then as quickly as her rationale had vanished, it came pouring back. She was on a case; Logan was her informant. He was a club owner; she was a waitress. He was kissing her as a cover-up; and she - she had reciprocated as if her life depended on it.

"Ronnie, I - "

She pushed him away, punched the red button by the door, and ran as fast as she could.

* * *

_It's kinda hard when you're busy makin' eye babies with the boss._

Sara's sarcastic words hammered in her brain as Veronica panted in the dim storage room. She threw her head back against the closed door. If Logan hadn't stopped them, who knew what real babies could've been made?

Veronica shut her eyes tight. A room full of wine cases was a very bad choice of location for emotional release.

She breathed in. What had she been thinking? For the past few days, even during the couple of nights she'd crashed at his place, she had everything completely under control. There were glances, there were smiles, and there were a couple of goodnight hugs. But even then, she had stayed in place. She was, after all, a federal agent under assignment.

But tonight, for some reason, she lost it. One touch of his lips to her skin - and she had forgotten everything she was supposed to be. She had successfully faked many relationships for cases before, even fooled a dirty old man that she was a high school dropout. But tonight - it suddenly stopped being about her case. Suddenly, it became about her.

_And there you have it, the story of my life. Veronica Mars stuck in between - in between the right and wrong side of the tracks, between boyfriend and best friend, between love and anger, and between work and the rest of my life._

She buried her face between her arms. Her pager buzzed.

"Yeah?" Her voice was deplete of energy as she mumbled into her receiver.

"When are you getting the heck out of there?" Seth's high voice came bellowing over the line.

Veronica scoffed. "I'm fine, grandma, no missing limbs."

"The last thing I hear is Echolls telling you about number codes. Then you lost connection. What was I supposed to think after 20 minutes of dead silence?"

"That maybe it's none of your business?"

"You know it is, Agent Mars."

"And you know I don't care, Agent Perkins."

An exasperated sigh came through the line. "Veronica, let's be reasonable. I already agreed to let Echolls help you. I didn't even tell Agent Stone that you stayed over at his place. But Echolls knows who you are; you have to be careful. For all you know, he might be involved in this whole thing. He could be playing your feelings against you."

"Logan won't," she snapped. "And I don't have any feelings for him."

"Okay, okay, fine - let's say he won't and you don't," Seth tentatively conceded. "But he's still a suspect, Veronica - "

A knock on the door had Veronica abruptly cut off her call. She stood up and threw open the door.

"Miss Mayfield, Mr. Lester wants you in the Red Room."


	5. Denial

_You didn't have to kiss her for real._

The normally suave Logan Echolls fidgeted in his chair. His heartbeat had taken almost half an hour to calm down after his lip-locking session with Veronica, and the side glances from the security team didn't exactly help him forget what had happened in the security hub. Every minute - every second - he had her in his arms had been pure bliss. The familiar scent of her hair, taste of her lips, and feel of her limbs had flooded all his senses with passion and longing. If the circumstances had been different, he would never have let go.

_But they weren't different._

Logan set his jaw. Last week, the first night Veronica crashed back into his life - and on his couch, for that matter - he had forced himself to be a perfect gentleman. When she stayed over last night to discuss the full staff list, they had shared a goodnight hug; and though his body longed for more, he'd reigned himself in. After all, he didn't want to spook her.

_Good luck with that now, man._

Restless, Logan stood up and paced the Red Room.

Over the years, he'd dreamed of Veronica, longed for Veronica, and imagined every possible scenario where she'd be back in his arms. When the reality of her presence struck him last week, he had planned long and hard to rekindle their relationship at a healthy, proper pace. Their reunion kiss was supposed to be private, meaningful, and romantic - definitely not an emergency distraction.

Logan's gut twisted. He was a total fool to kiss her for real while still in the club.

_But then again, how was I supposed to resist?_

Logan looked down helplessly. Every moment he'd spent in her proximity the past week had been a mixture of torture and joy. Then tonight, the very moment he'd lowered his face under her chin, Lance Lester the entrepreneur had evaporated. He was once again that teenage boy who could never, ever escape Veronica Mars. But the problem was - did she know?

Logan turned at the sound of the sliding door.

"Shannon Mayfield, sir," security announced.

Logan glanced over. Veronica was standing straight, just like a waitress before her employer, but her eyes were red and fiery.

_I'm in trouble._

"Thanks, Chris."

The officer bowed and left.

Instantly, Veronica crossed her arms and set back her shoulders.

_I'm really in trouble._

"I've been summoned, Mr. Lester?" Her tone was firm, accusatory.

_You want her to know that you don't think of her as just an employee. Then you phone her in like a big boss. Very consistent, Logan._

Logan buried his hands in his pockets. "I'm sorry, Ronnie, there was no other way I could, uhm - get you alone after not knowing where you'd run off to."

"Okay."

Her curtness pierced like a rapier.

"And I, uhm - I just want to apologize for what - happened."

Her eyebrows detached. "Yeah?"

"I shouldn't - I shouldn't have taken advantage of you like that," Logan finally strung together.

_Gosh, this is hard._

"You were trying to cover for me. I get it. No hard feelings." Her tone expressed just the opposite.

Half of Logan wanted to scoop her up in his arms and kiss away her pain. The other half of him wanted to bang his head on the wall for even thinking of repeating the same mistake he was apologizing for.

"Look, Veronica," his million-dollar tongue felt a hundred times heavier than usual, "I - I want you to know that when I offered to help with the case, I really did want to help. It wasn't just - just a way to toy with you, you know?"

Veronica shrugged. "Of course. I know it didn't mean anything."

Now Logan wanted to tear down the room.

"Maybe not for you," Logan paused. Then he sighed - might as well go all out. "But it did for me."

The next three silent seconds might just as well been hours.

"You don't have to comfort me, Logan," Veronica finally responded, nonchalant. "I don't need your comfort. I thank you for the cover, and I hope I was good enough of an actress to pull it off too."

Logan felt water filling up his lungs. The closeness, the passion, the intensity - no, he couldn't accept that it was all just an act. Offended, he stepped forward, cutting the space between them in half. His eyes zeroed in on hers.

"Just acting, you say? You didn't feel a single thing, Veronica? No fireworks, no heat, no intentions?" He lowered his face inches away from hers. "And sure, you didn't scream. But I'm pretty sure there was a moan instead."

And just like he deserved, Veronica pushed him soundly away.

"Stop it, Logan. I don't need your charms."

"Well, let me convince you then." He hoped the cockiness masked his pain.

"You've had your chance, and I've proven myself immune."

"Ha! Not at the security hub, you didn't."

"I told you, Logan, I was acting!"

"But the warmth between your thighs sure said otherwise."

Veronica gasped, every muscle in her face mirroring the disgust she expressed that last day she had marched out of his suite at the Neptune Grand.

_I am dead._

"Well, excuse me, Mr. Lester, if I may," she spoke a moment later, her voice dripping with ice. "I'm afraid we see this working relationship a little - differently. I'll take it myself from here. Thank you for your consideration, but I have drinks to serve."

And with that, she shoved the door open and disappeared.

* * *

Veronica practically stormed towards the bar, fighting every instinct to turn back.

_Note to self: in spite of what generations of women on screen may manifest, expecting your man to run after you when you storm out angry is a no-win course of action. He won't come out; you can't go in._

Her pager vibrated relentlessly against her lower back. Extremely annoyed, she slipped into an empty bay area, flipped the line on, and barked into her receiver, "Not now, Seth!"

"I know, I know!" Seth sounded frantic, helpless. "I wouldn't have paged you again so shortly if there wasn't a particularly pressing issue."

_Another issue? Yeah, sure, Seth, I'm sorry you can't get over the fact that Logan is way hotter than you._

"I don't have time." She cut off the call.

A second later, she leaned back against a wall and threw back her head with a sob.

Slowly, she lowered herself down to the floor, tears escaping her eyes. She took the deepest breaths she could manage.

Logan meant well - she knew that. But she simply was in no position to start another relationship. Between the risk and danger of her job, she had no room for love. And with Logan's name still on the suspects list, she couldn't honestly start anything for real with him.

Veronica closed her eyes. She wouldn't deny that she had hoped, and she had wished. She had selfishly tried to cling on to the chance that after the entire case was over, Logan could be cleared of suspicion and returned to her. She had wanted him to want the same thing.

But then - he just had to speak up now. And on top of that, he had to use her physical attraction to him against her.

Veronica buried her face into her folded elbows. She had once been a stubborn girlfriend - a prideful girl who ran away from the ones who loved her most. Then when her dad had been diagnosed with cancer, she had promised to stop being so self-absorbed. Then -

_Dad - wait, Seth said a 'particularly pressing issue.'_

Veronica breathed sharply at her recognition of their agreed code. She instantly paged her partner, this time bellowing into her receiver. "Seth, what's wrong with him!"

Seth sighed over the line. "Are you sure you're ready for this, Veronica? Cuz you sounded like you weren't."

"Tell me now!" She almost seethed.

Seth paused before he spoke, "They found masses in his colon today. They'll need a biopsy to know if his cancer has relapsed. Just hang in there, gal; I know he'll make it."

Before Veronica could react, the sound of three, distinct, outdoor gunshots filled her ears.

She was off the ground immediately, scrambling towards the curved wall where she vaguely remembered weaving through on her first night at The Marines. The cold metal of a black door handle pressed against her torso in the semi-darkness. She pulled it; it was locked.

She muttered curses under her breath as her hands explored the rest of the framework.

_Well, this is obviously not a fire exit._

After picking the double locks, Veronica wrenched the door open to reveal a long, wandering flight of metal stairs. With only her flashlight as a guide, she dashed up without hesitation.

After two stories' worth of climbing, the steps levelled into a dark hallway. Then, the sound of another shot froze Veronica. She shook her head to clear her thoughts.

_Consecutive shots means someone is running; and perhaps now, someone is dead._

A quick scan of her flashlight revealed a small door at the end of the corridor. Another three picked locks later, she pushed through the frame and out into the dank night air.

The sudden increase in oxygen cramped her brain into a light-headed pain. Veronica shook her head to steady her spinning surroundings. To her right, a white car spun away. Mind in a blur, she robotically memorized the plate number: DE1908. She braced herself for more danger; but when no additional gun shots pierced the air, she knew the aggressor had fled.

"Veronica! Veronica!"

She turned to her left just in time to be smashed between Seth's long and strong arms. She closed her eyes, allowing his presence to comfort her. Seth was no knight in shining armor, but his existence represented a much simpler time of a life - a time when fathers didn't fall ill, when ex-lovers didn't appear on assignments, and when gun shots didn't pierce the evening air.

_Gunshots -_

Veronica jumped out of Seth's grasp. His face, set against in his incorrigible light curls, betrayed his surprise. She twisted around to take in their setting. Instantly, they both froze.

Less than two yards away, a slim figure groaned on the ground. Blood trailed down her copper skin from a gun wound on her left knee, but her hands were pressed against the gushing hole in the middle of her chest. As sirens echoed in the background, Veronica rushed to the victim's side while Seth slipped into the shadows.


	6. Knowing Better

The acidic rubbing alcohol scent, whitewashed walls, and grumbling AC painted a grim picture of little comfort as Veronica leaned forward, elbows on knees and hands in face. As the first witness found at the crime scene, she had been whisked away to the hospital along with the victim, interviewed by the cops, and tested for trauma.

_But not before I got what I needed._

Veronica's mind momentarily revisited the small plastic zip-lock bag she had found in the victim's purse and tossed to Seth right before he hid for good. Sure, she may be withholding evidence; but she also knew that a forensics request from the FBI would be much more accurate and efficient than a local one.

_Please, Lucia, lead me to your killer._

Veronica shook her head to ward off her ominous thoughts. The lady wasn't dead - she was fighting for her life in the operation room. And if Lucia Gutierrez, mistress to the Irish billionaire Mr. McClain, were to survive, then maybe they would finally have the surviving witness they needed.

Veronica sighed. It's true that so far, all the victims had been party girls - young women who lived for personal pleasure rather than public service. There were no heroes lost or role models ruined. In fact, after the third victim, she had started to wonder if the drugs were being taken willingly. After all, any person trying to steer clear of murderers who drugged young women would by now be miles away from The Marines.

_But even then, no innocent life ever deserves to be snuffed out early._

The hospital air felt increasingly thinner as memories of Lilly and of her own rape flooded Veronica's mind. Lilly was a hedonist, but her murderer was much worse. And Veronica herself hadn't been trying to get into trouble; but still, drugs was no respector of persons. These young women deserved much better than the cards life dealt them.

"Lucia! Lucia!" A tall man in a leather jacket dashed down the hallway. Veronica looked up. Nurses scrambled to stop him from literally crashing into the operating room. "Lucia, mi amor!"

His muscled frame collapsed on the ground, tears raining down his face.

Veronica watched from a distance as the nurses lifted him to a nearby chair. The man looked broken - someone who had his very soul shattered. But who was he? A brother, a friend, a lover? Surely, no bodyguard could be this dedicated to his keep. His face was the face of a person whose very reason to live was being stripped away.

_At least Lucia has somebody as she fights for her life. Good luck getting Mr. McClain to show up._

Veronica breathed deep as her own thoughts filled with her own father's fight for life. Was he suffering in another hospital just as cold and heartless as this one?

_Thank God he has Alicia now._

Maybe cancer wasn't always a bad thing. It did, after all, reunite her father with the person he should never have broken up with in the first place.

_Who am I kidding? I'd give anything to have his cancer go away._

Veronica sighed. Needing a distraction, she turned to study the man the nurses had just forced down. A sudden sense of recognition streaked through her brain: Chardo Navarro, Weevil's cousin.

_What's he doing here?_

She leaned ever-so-slightly to analyze him more; and suddenly, he was staring right back. She caught her breath. She couldn't risk identification. Quickly, she picked herself up, walked over, and extended her hand. "Hi, I'm Shannon. I work at The Marines. I'm so sorry about what happened to Lucia. We all hope she'll be okay."

Chardo stared blankly at her. Veronica swallowed, hard. It was already in high school - a lifetime ago - when she'd uncovered Chardo's affair with Logan's girlfriend Caitlin Ford. Guess the guy never gave up on going after attached women. But surely, he couldn't still remember.

Then, as suddenly as he had appeared, Chardo jumped up from his seat and flung Veronica backwards. She staggered, taking a few seconds to avoid a fall.

" _You're_ sorry?!" Chardo bellowed, his hands and voice raised. "What do you know, you little rich man's whore? Lucia's my fiancée. I love her! But you wouldn't know what that meant, would you - you heartless ice witch!"

"She's your fiancée?" Veronica wondered aloud, trying to ignore the fact that he'd used the same insult on her as she herself used to call the most despicable woman in her life. That was another battle.

Chardo closed his eyes and fell back in his seat while nurses rushed forward to separate them.

"You wouldn't know it. You wouldn't understand," he muttered as the personnel gathered around him. "I love her - no matter what she did."

_He loves her? Still?_

Veronica backed away as she processed the information in Chardo's few words. He was engaged to Lucia Gutierrez, the infamous woman who leeched fortunes off the McClain family. And he probably wasn't lying; there really was a mediocre ring on her finger. But she was never faithful to him - publicly so. And even then, he loved her? Did he truly believe she loved him back? Caitlin Ford hadn't loved him; and countless others, she was sure, hadn't loved him. Yet still, he loved her?

Veronica leaned a hand against the wall, her head spinning.

_But I guess that's what love means, doesn't it? Loving someone means that no matter how much they may disappoint you, there's always a small part of you holding out for redemption._

She bit her lip.

_Love means that no matter the amount of hurt the relationship may cost, you'd willingly pay the price because the alternative of losing them is just too much to bear._

Her eyelids felt heavy as she watched the nurses escort Chardo Navarro into a resting area. Here was a bum, a gangster, and a serial delusional lover - and yet, maybe he knew more about true affection than she ever did.

_Love - loyalty and devotion in its ultimate form - the one thing that has caused wars to be waged, kingdoms lost, lives ruined, bloodshed -_

She breathed in and closed her eyes. There'd been only three individuals in the entire life of Veronica Mars that had ever taken those kind of roots. One was brutally murdered by a pedophile, psychopathic actor before she graduated high school; one was in inaccessible Neptune struggling with cancer. And the third one?

Veronica pulled out her phone.

* * *

"Hey - uhm, I understand if you can't or don't want to answer your phone right now. I - I just want to say I'm sorry. I shouldn't have, uhm, reacted like that," Logan scratched the back of his head, his entire being overcome by fatigue and nerves. "I just really, really, really care for you, you know? And I guess I couldn't take that you didn't feel the same way."

Logan sighed.

_This is way too hard._

"So anyway, Veronica. I want to say I'm sorry, and I'm still willing to help you in any way you need. Not just now, but, like, always," Logan breathed in for a moment. "I hope you'll forgive me and let's still be - uhm."

_You know you don't want to be friends, liar._

"Still be okay," he concluded. He blinked once, twice. "I love you, Veronica. Please just give it - give us - another chance. I -"

The line, impatient with his stuttering, cut him off then.

With a frustrated scoff, Logan Echolls slid his cellphone on to his glass coffee table and collapsed on his couch. He ran his wide hands over his face, rubbing his temples several times. If memories of the last time he'd left an apologetic voice mail on her phone wasn't enough to torture him, this one - if left unanswered - would ruin him.

After his undesirable conversation with Veronica tonight, he had hurried from The Marines, desperate to escape the place. The Red Room - a former place of refuge - was now just another venue on his list of heartache memorials. There, he had reconnected with the woman he so desperately loved; and there, she had reminded him acutely that she thought otherwise.

Logan closed his eyes, basking in the warm glow of the modern lighting in his condo.

_Thank God he still had one last sanctuary._

A strong vibration rippled through his carpet and tickled his left foot. Logan shot up, reaching for his phone. He glanced at the caller ID.

_Of course, what did I expect?_

"Hello, Chris," he slouched and mumbled into the phone. A call from his bodyguard was far from what he'd wanted; but at least the guy had one-hundredth of Veronica's drama.

Two seconds later, Logan was sitting straight as a plank. Patiently, he waited for Chris to finish describing the details, nodding silently at his words.

"How much do we need?" Logan's calm tone masked his internal agitation. "Alright, wire over ten grand; that should tide us over for now. Take it from the Swiss account."

Chris acknowledged the instructions over the line.

"And Chris, remember - "

"Make it untraceable, sir."

"Yes, good," Logan confirmed. He ran a hand over his forehead. "Thanks," he added.

"No problem, sir. I'll keep you posted."

"That'll be good. I'll prep the rest of the funds over the weekend."

"Yes, sir."

Logan hung up and tossed his phone on the sofa. And suddenly, the anger and bitterness that he felt towards Veronica just minutes ago warped into a deep sense of guilt. Logan grunted.

Their relationship - exciting as it'd always been - had always suffered from lack of trust and communication. He was affectionate, and she was passionate. But somehow, they just couldn't stop keeping secrets from each other.

_And we still are._

Emotionally spent, Logan shifted back against the soft fabric of his loveseat, inadvertently allowing his phone to bury itself even deeper between the luscious cushions. Every passing day that he didn't come clear with her was an additional day for her to blame him. Her eyes may sparkle at his quips, her body succumb to his kisses - but if he didn't let her know who he really was now, would there even be a chance at anything lasting?

And heaven knew how much he wanted them to last.

_Last forever._

* * *

"This is Logan with today's inspirational greeting: 'When we love, we always strive to become better than we are. When we strive to become better than we are, everything around us becomes better too' - Paul Coelho."

Veronica could barely hold her phone still, her fingers trembling in the chilly evening air.

_At least if I faint here, there'll be plenty of doctors._

Veronica breathed deep. Logan's voice mail had surprised her - touched her. She had called back immediately. But now, after his uncharacteristic cut-off, he was completely unreachable.

Angry and anxious, Veronica hit redial. She refused to leave a voice mail. She needed to talk to him. She needed his voice, his words - she needed  _him_. And if her shortlist of loved ones was any indication, even the smartest, strongest individuals could never be safe.

"Logan, Logan, please - " her desperation increased by the second.

"I'm not leaving her! Let me go! Lucia, mi amor!"

Veronica spun around to see Chardo Navarro, flanked and grappled by two burly hospital security officers, fighting and screaming with all his might to go back into the ICU room he had apparently just stormed.

Veronica felt her ribcage shrink. She didn't approve, of course, of the man's complete disrespect of hospital protocol, not that she was one to talk. At the same time, there was a small part of her that almost admired him. After all, if she were in a hospital right now, she knew Logan would unquestionably be reacting just as badly. If Logan, in turn, were the one attacked -

She hit speed dial for a taxi.

* * *

"A gun! You had to use a gun!"

The older man groaned against the cold, cement floor as the very polished tips of Barker Black footwear hit him repeatedly in the gut. His thin face contorted in pain.

"Sir, please, I'm sorry - " It's pathetic to be begging for mercy from a much younger man; but what choice did he have?

Large, powerful hands hauled him up by his collar. The voice that accompanied the hands was heavier still. "I needed one thing from you -  _one_ thing! And you couldn't figure out a way to get rid of them? There had to be sexual assault, robbery, and gunshots. They can trace a gun, you idiot!"

The man shuddered as his face hit the bare floor again. He twisted around, anxious to explain. "Sir, I needed to make it look like it's - it's with reason. The women - the crimes - they needed to have a motive."

"You think too much, pet." The affectionate term came with another less-than-affectionate kick. "We're not trying to fuel a conspiracy. We just need to make sure dead men - or women - don't talk, you know?"

The speaker bent down and stuck his face inches from his human punching bag. "They overdosed. That's they're business. Your job? Just get rid of the weak ones."

 


	7. Heat of the Moment

Logan lifted a forearm to his scrunched brow, shielding his eyes from the warm lighting as he forced his eyelids open. He shook his head for a moment, trying to register the source of the sounds responsible for his rude awakening at - he glanced at his Rolex - 2:00 a.m.! The high-pitched, synthetic tone continued to pierce the air.

_It doesn't seem to make a whole lot of sense, but that sound sure reminds me of my - doorbell?_

Logan sat up from the deep impression his form had created in the soft loveseat cushions. A quick stretch eased his cramped shoulders.

The sounds came faster, harder. Logan tried to blink away the sleep in his eyes, his mind barely awake enough to process. His building was secure, extremely so. No outsider could enter without registration. So who could be pounding away at his doorbell in the unholy hours of the night?

The ringing stopped abruptly. Logan cocked his ear at the sudden silence.

A second later, the sound of dangling metal scraped at the door.

_The only person on my free-to-enter list was Chris. Until last week, when I added -_

Logan jumped up, strode across the pocket foyer, and flung his front door open. True enough, a small blond named Veronica Mars stood at his threshold, her hands suspended in the air with a lock pick and her eyes fixated on him.

A moment's observation made Logan gulp. He had expected her, but he had not expected what he actually saw: the teary glint of her unfathomable eyes, the anguish in her bitten lower lip, and the trembling of her body down to the tip of her dishevelled golden hair.

_What's going on?_

Every part of him wanted to envelope her into his arms and kiss away her troubles.

Instead, he cleared his throat, "Veronica, hi. Uhm, sorry I didn't answer sooner. I - "

He never finished his apology before she thrust herself into his chest, wrapping her arms tightly around his torso. Her scent filled his lungs, and he reflexively closed his eyes. For a few seconds, he let them be - her arms wound taut around him, and his hands placed gently on her back. She shivered, and he pressed her just a little tighter.

He had no idea what was going on, but he was not about to push her away.

A moment later, Veronica sobbed.

_What on earth?_

Logan moved his hands to her shoulders to gentle push her far enough to see her face. She refused, her grip resolutely tightening. His lungs complained, but he let her sob against his chest for a few more seconds.

_Angry Veronica I know. Crying Veronica? I don't have an S.O.P. for that._

"Logan, please," her muffled voice spoke into his shirt. "Don't go. don't go."

"Ronnie, I'm not going anywhere." He tried to lift her face again, this time with slightly more success. His right hand tilted her chin. "What's wrong? Tell me."

Her eyes met his for a quick moment before looking down again.

_Veronica, please._

"I called you so many times," she finally spoke. "I thought you were in danger."

Logan knitted his brows for a moment before he extricated himself to march to the sofa. He quickly dug out his phone.

_13 missed calls? Boy, am I gonna get a whipping tonight._

"Veronica, I'm so sorry. I fell asleep, and I didn't - " He turned around as he spoke, stopping when he found her standing right behind him, hands pressed together and body shivering.

His heart ached as he reached for her shoulders to steady her. To know that she worried - that she cared - he was ecstatic. But to see her broken and in tears - no, he couldn't take that he caused that.

"Veronica, I - "

Two small, strong hands yanked him down from the neck, and her lips crashed on to his.

His eyes instantly closed, his arms finding their way around her waist. Their lips and faces aligned as seamlessly as they'd always had. Closer, closer, and closer, he pulled her into his embrace. Longer, deeper, and hungrier, their every kiss grew.

In the recesses of his mind, a voice rallied and argued - telling him it was wrong, impossible, and unwise. He couldn't and shouldn't do this. She wasn't ready and would run away the very next day.

But by now, their bodies had relocated. Logan sat on his couch, Veronica straddling his lap, when he pulled away from their reckless intensity. Arms still around her, he pressed their foreheads - now levelled in height - softly together. His breath unsteady, as was hers, he whispered in a voice that was barely his own, "Veronica, you know and I know where we're headed with this. And as much as I would want it, I - "

She cut him off with another firm, determined kiss.

_Three times now, Veronica. No can do._

He kissed her back for a minute before holding her down by the shoulders. "Veronica, why? Just earlier tonight, you - "

"Logan," her hand shot up over his mouth. "I can't afford to lose you - not again."

_Nor I, you._

One look into her stricken eyes later, Logan Echolls killed the voice in his head.

With renewed passion, he fitted her snugly against him and pulled them both up from the sofa, their mouths ever attached. His steps ragged but sure, he spun them both towards the bedroom - her vest, his shirt, and her blouse disappearing along the way. The motion-sensitive lights encased them in a warm glow as they moved towards his king-size bed.

As her hands wandered under his waistband, his worked to remove her bra. Her scent and taste overwhelmed him, and her moans doubled his heartbeat as he kissed a trail down her neck to her chest. He wanted her; she wanted him. There was nothing else that existed in the universe.

And maybe that's how things had always been supposed to be. Logan Echolls and Veronica Mars - they were never about slow-burning embers that gradually flamed into fire. They weren't the kind of people who just subtly grew into each other's lives incidentally. Their passion - their love - was a sudden and overwhelming deluge that, once allowed, would pour forth from the floodgates of heaven until every other living creature disappeared. In Neptune or in LA, in high school or college or into their twenties - their relationship would never be any other way. They were epic.

His seventeen-year-old self had been right all along.

And as their naked bodies entwined amongst the silken sheets, Logan knew that he would never survive again without her. And as he buried himself deep within her - till the peak of both their pleasure - he knew there would be no turning back. He had surrendered his final sanctuary. He would never escape Veronica Mars.

* * *

"Hey, I'm sorry, pal. Hope you're okay." The young man pressed a hand on his companion's knee. "I don't know what got into me."

The older man to the side flinched at the contact but didn't pull away.

"Seriously, Kurt, you can't blame the fellow. We needed the deaths to look random." Her voice, strong and demanding, shot across the bare office. She sashayed over and perched herself on the hurting man's lap, her every curve accentuated by her short Valentino red dress. "You know he didn't mean it, sweetheart."

She kissed the man beneath her soundly, her red curls bouncing with the movement. She pulled back after a few seconds.

Breathless at their lost of contact, the older man blurted, "I should've done a better job."

"Yes, you should've," Kurt stood up and paced the room.

"Kurt, you know he tried!" Her protests betrayed obvious frustration.

"But she's not dead!" The young man's waves whipped the air at his sharp turn. "She's lying in a hospital, ready to ID us anytime!"

"Then we'll make sure she's not!"

Kurt paused for a moment. He looked at the creature on the tattered chair - one hand pressed an ice pack to his face while the other wound around a woman he sincerely believed loved him back. Kurt almost smirked. "Okay, this is your chance. Prove it."

The lady smiled back at Kurt approvingly. The man, in turn, looked adequately grateful. He responded after a cough, "I'll make sure of it, sir. I would've finished her tonight already. But that pesky little blond - she just had to show up."

"Then get rid of her."

"I would, sir. But the thing is, she's got a thing with Lester. I can't just make her disappear."

Now Kurt scoffed. He walked towards the giant glass window, faced away from his companions. His voice echoed off the glass. "Mr. Lance Lester, huh? Well, Hollywood royalty or not - if someone wants to stay in the way, then we got to inform them loud and clear."

* * *

The soothing whispers of ocean waves massaged her ears as she breathed in the salt-kissed air. The horizon glowed in the sunrise, waters glistening and clouds in a serene haze. The whispers grew, and the edges of her view dissolved into a deep mahogany hue.

Veronica's eyes popped open. With a sharp breath, she rapidly took in her surroundings: the silky sheets beneath her, the backlit and modern wooden wall paneling, the soft scent of the ocean, and - the topless man beside her with his arm slung tightly around her equally topless torso. A small smile crept on her lips.

Sensually, she ran her fingers up the length of the muscled arm around her waist as she slowly turned to face him. An invisible hand clutched at her heart as she gazed at his peacefully sleeping face. Last night - and all it encompassed - that was no one-night stand; there was no awkward sex attempted to create false intimacy within a soulless relationship. This was Logan Echolls: the man who in all probability was - though she might never admit aloud - the love of her life.

She ran her fingertips on his face, her eyes drinking in his every feature.

_If only we could stay here forever._

A second later, two chocolate eyes looked tenderly back at her.

"Morning, bobcat." His voice was particularly sexy in the morning. She remembered as much.

Veronica blinked and pressed their smiling lips together in a soft kiss.

"You okay?" His face was filled with sweet concern as he brushed his fingers through her hair.

She nodded.

His eyebrows furrowed.

Veronica lowered her eyes. He wanted more; she knew. He wanted to know why she had ended up at his doorstep last night and threw herself at him with abandon. He wanted to know that she really meant for them to last, this time around.

But right now, putting the morning's blissful contentment into words was a risk she refused to take.

She looked up and kissed him again - before jumping up from the bed and gathering her clothes.

"Going somewhere?" Logan sat up, placing his muscled arms atop the knees beneath the comforter.

"Bobcat's gotta work, honey." She smiled back at him for a moment as she continued her clothing treasure hunt.

"The Marines isn't open till six tonight, you know?"

"Yup." She marched up to his side as she adjusted her undergarments. "But when an agent disappears for a night after a new attack, there's a lot of things she has to account for."

She leaned in to kiss him. "And I think sleeping in with the boss isn't exactly an acceptable excuse."

She meant it to be a joke, really; but Logan's stiffened form indicated that he heard it otherwise.

_And that is why I need to keep my stupid mouth shut._

Veronica buttoned up her blouse and sat down on the bed. She sandwiched his left hand between her own. After a minute of running her thumbs over the hair at the back of his palm, he visibly relaxed.

"Logan, you know you're more than that, right?"

He smiled at her, tentatively.

Taking the cue, she pressed his hand against her lips. "I'll see you again tonight?"

"Okay, but don't work too late."

"Oh trust me, there are activities I like way better than waiting tables." She winked, laughed, and pulled her vest with her out the door.

* * *

"Agent Stone, I need you to run a license plate for me," Veronica spoke into her hands-free microphone as she shuffled in the small purse for her keys. "DE1908. Okay, thanks."

The deep brown door gave way to her nudge as she pushed in to Shannon Mayfield's apartment.

"There you are."

Veronica jumped.

_Oh hi, Seth, totally the best way to greet a lady._

She let out the breath she was holding.

"Seriously, Seth, I know you have the keys; but you don't have to welcome yourself on to the middle of my couch without warning." She tossed her purse on the table and crossed her arms.

Seth rolled his eyes and stood up. "It's not me who went MIA last night, Agent Mars."

"It was after hours, Perkins."

"It's never after hours when a murderer is on the loose."

She could - she wanted - to snap back; but a small part of her couldn't deny that Seth was partially right. Last night, Agent Mars had mentally signed off for the longest break she'd ever had. And Veronica wasn't exactly proud.

A small beep had her snatching up her phone to scan her new text.

"DE1908. Donavan family. Members in L.A. include heir apparent Kurt and sister Elise."

She scrolled down to reveal the attached owners' pictures. Her face blanched. It was him - no it wasn't him, him - but there was no mistaking Kurt Donavan as anyone other than Ashley Lu's romantic dance partner in The Marines last week.

Veronica narrowed her eyes. Logan had dismissed Mercer's doppelganger as a suspect instantly, pointing to his expensive apparel as proof. But could he just as easily had been wrong?

"Veronica?" She looked up at Seth's voice. "I didn't come here just to scare you."

She stared back, her mind still racing.

"I got the overnight results on the zip-lock." Seth's voice carried an unusual weight. He handed her his tablet. "You're not gonna like it."


	8. Trust

Her fingers scrolled down the handheld screen, an acute numbness coursing through her veins.

_Traces of liquid GHB inside plastic. Apart from agents' and victim's, fingerprints on bag include those of Phil Morris, Logan Echolls, Connor Larkin, and unknown third set. Ridges count indicate female gender._

She read the succinct paragraph twice, thrice, and an unknown number of times - her mind alternating between images of bleeding victims and the small, backlit screen in her hands. The information transmitted to her mind felt like a rubber ball bouncing off a stubborn brick wall.

_It can't be true. This is not real._

"Veronica - " Seth's hand touched her shoulder.

"I'm fine," she snapped, pulling away and backing on to the small olefin couch. She swallowed to silence her grumbling stomach.

_Should've stayed for some breakfast._

Her fingers clutched the tablet as she breathed, deep. "So whose is the fourth set?"

Seth, hands in pocket, shook his head. "We really don't know. Whoever it is has no criminal record. It could just as easily have belonged to anyone at manufacturing or delivery."

She nodded and placed the tablet carefully on the small coffee table, her eyes lowered. "I guess that'll be our lead then. We gotta find out who this girl is - and whether she's working with Morris or Larkin."

When she finally looked up, Seth's face bore the most disappointed expression that she had ever seen him sport. For two seconds, they stared.

"I don't think I have to say it out loud, Veronica."

"Say what?" She crossed her legs, then her arms.

Seth perched his hands together at the back of his neck and closed his eyes. "Veronica, please. You can't continuing being this blind."

"I'm not blind."

"You are when it comes to him!" The control in his voice gave way while his hands swung up the air.

She bit her lip, willing her shivers not to show. "About who? Logan? We know he's not involved."

"We don't know that, Veronica!" Seth began to briskly pace the small living space. "He's a suspect. You know that. We are going to investigate the girl, Morris, Larkin,  _and_  Echolls. You must stop defending him!"

"I'm not defending him!" She shot up, her eyes stinging. "I just don't think he's a part of this."

"Based on what?"

Veronica looked to the side as she bit her lip - still her go-to expression when agitated. "Well, for one, he helped me investigate Ashley Lu last night."

"And did he give any helpful information at all?"

_Well, he pointed out that Kurt Donavan wasn't involved. But that doesn't exactly help right now._

Veronica blinked hard. For a minute, the partners stood wordlessly in the stuffy California apartment, their bodies facing each other while their eyes looked away. Seth was first to break the stalemate, his voice still, "Veronica, I need you - we need you. Tanya Smith, Ashley Lu, and Lucia Gutierrez - they need you. And in order to be the person they need, you have to be objective."

She looked resolutely at the small window beside the door, not bulging.

Seth stepped a little closer. "I'm not saying he's making drugs. I'm not saying he's murdering people. But Echolls was and is a primary suspect, and I need you to treat him as that."

Veronica closed her eyes as he placed a tentative hand on her shoulder.

_Seth wasn't wrong in thinking that Logan had to be included in the suspects list. He was, after all, known to have been at The Marines each night another victim fell. The greater mystery was my gut certainty about the innocence of a man I hadn't seen for over five years. Was it perhaps too narcissistic of me to assume that a man deeply in love with me after all these years could never be a villain?_

"It's okay, Seth." She patted then removed his hand. "I know what to do."

Seth nodded. "Are you sure, Veronica? Cuz if you need me to ask Agent Stone for back-up, or if you'd rather work on another case - "

"No." The word practically dropped from her mouth. "I'll handle this. There's no one who could talk to him like I can. I'll get back to you soon."

Seth nodded, sighed, and stepped out the door.

* * *

_Name: Tanya Smith._  
Age: 20  
Occupation: Daughter of brewery tycoon  
_Cause of Death: Forceful impact in upper cranium._  
_Possible Motive: Unsuccessful sexual assault.  
_ _Notes: Victim dozed with gamma hydroxybutyrate_

_Name: Ashley Lu_  
Age: 21  
Occupation: Graduate student  
Cause of Death: Strangulation  
Possible Motive: Robbery  
Notes:  _Victim dozed with gamma hydroxybutyrate_

_Name: Lucia Gutierrez_  
Age: 21  
Occupation: Secretary, mistress to Gregory McClain  
Possible Motive: Unknown  
Notes:  _Victim dozed with gamma hydroxybutyrate_

Veronica typed in the latest information and scrolled up and down the screen. There was little to tie the victims together, other than their abuse of GHB. Why were these particular women attacked, and who was feeding them the GHB?

And knowing the security level of The Marines - how?

Instinctively, she reached over to the phone on her bed. Her eyes still glued on her computer screen, she swiped and pressed her way to her messaging app.

_Just need to fire a text to -_

Veronica froze. She glanced down to where her fingers were subconsciously typing L-O-G-. Three seconds later, she stood up, threw her phone on the desk, and dived amongst her pillows.

The afternoon breeze knocked gently on her window; the sun peeked in on the top of the bed. The sparse furnishings formed a simple, cordial circle around the room's lone occupant. And in her heart, Veronica warred.

She warred with the intense desire to find the murderer and bury him behind bars. She warred with the reality that Logan - her Logan - was almost certainly involved. She warred with the fear that fueling her first desire would only lead to the inevitability of the reality she deplored.

And most of all, she warred with the realization that for the first time in her life, she had decided to choose her heart over her mind - and had been horribly wrong.

A lamp tumbled and crashed on the ground as she hurled away an offending pillow. It was one thing to suspect - accuse, even - Logan of wrongdoing. She's had her share of that. It was, however, a different thing entirely to be told by others that she had trusted Logan and been proven wrong. Confronted by Seth's condemning tones, she could still pretend to have been right; but the disillusion that flooded her in a depressing, foreign bedroom was a much graver reality.

A beep interrupted her stifled sobs as her phone screen lit up. Veronica rolled to her side for a moment, gazing blankly at the small gadget. A second beep beckoned, and she pushed herself off the rumpled comforter.

One look at her screen had her feet giving way once more. She blinked, hard, as she re-read Seth's simple, punctuated message: "Lucia Gutierrez died this morning. Doctors could not stop lung failure. Fiancé going crazy. McClain refused to pay anything. Larkin and Morris visited with press; Marines will foot bill for funeral."

_Too late, again._

Veronica buried her head between her elbows. She had known getting back on the field would be challenging, but she had no idea how much so. Even as a teenager, she had her emotions towed in line sufficiently to investigate the murder of her best friend. But as an adult, when the realities of life and love present themselves, remaining detached from her cases was becoming a thinner tightrope to walk by the day.

A beep brought another message: "Stay strong."

Veronica scoffed and typed right back: "No worries. How's the particularly pressing issue?"

Even with her phone automatically archiving and removing messages within a minute, she couldn't take any chances.

"Still no news. Biopsy results soon," came the reply.

Veronica nodded. She tossed the phone on the rough, gray carpet.

Veronica exhaled.

Then Veronica cried. The tears that had welled up the night before - the tears that had been repressed and replaced firstly by the presence of danger and then by the passion and fire on Logan's bed - came punishing her like a suffocating fog.

Yesterday, her father had been healthy; yesterday, Logan had been innocent and helpful. Yesterday, there had been reason to believe that after two victims, they were closing in enough on the drug source to prevent any further deaths.

And then, last night happened.

_Should've stayed a pessimist._

A continuous buzz on the floor beside her had Veronica lifting her head and picking up her phone again, her fingers trembling with emotional fatigue. "Agent Stone?"

"I'm assuming you heard the news, Agent Mars." The voice of her immediate superior was as deep and collected as always.

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry I couldn't stop it."

"I've heard you were at the scene of the shooting. I know you did what you could, Agent Mars."

_Thank you, Seth._

"Until you disappeared from the hospital."

_Let's take that back._

"I was tired, sir. I didn't know I had to stay any longer."

"No, you didn't." The benevolence in his voice seemed utterly ironic for what had to be a dressing-down call. "But you didn't actually go home, did you?"

Veronica closed her eyes. She couldn't deny the lack of feed into the bugs in the house. "No, sir."

"And where were you last night, Agent Mars? Perkins wasn't very forthcoming about this."

"I - " she sighed and opted for the best hybrid of the truth she could muster. "I was at Lester's, sir. I needed a follow-up with what we were discussing before the attack."

"Echolls, I see." There were few things more inscrutable than the voice of a seasoned FBI agent. "And we've been getting information that's helpful?"

"Yes, sir."

"And I wouldn't have to worry, I suppose, that Echolls and you seem to have - known each other before in some capacity."

"No, sir, I have been observing and analyzing him along with all other owners, sir."

_At least that wasn't a lie._

"Good, Agent Mars. We are fortunate to have this special access to him. Do make good use of it. We will need any incriminating evidence we can get. Goodnight, Agent Mars."

Veronica tried to swallow the lump in her throat as noiselessly as possible. "Goodnight, sir."

* * *

"No, don't sign it."

"We need to clear it with government, sir."

"Could we use Lester?"

"I have to use Echolls, sir."

"No!" Logan exhaled as he pulled his BMW to a stop under the twilight sky. "Not yet."

"But funds of this amount - "

"I know." Logan propped his index finger against the side of his forehead. "Just transfer the maximum undeclared amount. I'll let you know when for the rest."

"Yes, sir."

"And, Chris - " He sighed. "Thanks."

"Yes, sir."

Logan lifted a hand to turn off his bluetooth earpiece, his shoulders falling back on the black leather as his eyes scanned the red-and-yellow building beside him. From the moment Veronica's shadow dissolved out the door in his apartment this morning, his mind hadn't stopped torturing him with fears of her never coming back. He needed answers; he needed answers from her.

On her porch, his right hand toyed with the car keys in his pocket as he forced himself back from pressing the doorbell yet again.

_After all, impatient people hate impatience._

A few seconds later, the door slowly pulled back. Logan inhaled.

The image was too familiar - too painfully familiar: a robe-clad Veronica with wet blond hair tousled around her shoulders. Her face put up a strong front, but her eyes were trimmed crimson.

Logan felt his lungs constrict.

"Veronica," he whispered.

She nodded in acknowledgement, apparently not planning to explain her unexpected predicament. "You wanna come in?"

"Of course, thanks." His voice trembled ever-so-slightly.

_What happened to her?_

Logan sat down at the lone couch as Veronica headed into the small adjacent kitchen. His long legs left barely any room between the sofa and the basic coffee table. He noted the sparse, unrealistic furnishings of the place. It was just a safe house, after all. His mind flew back about the bugs - or monitors, rather - Veronica had previously mentioned as being in the house.

_Had they always been prepared for her to have special visitors?_

An odd sense of violation coursed through his veins. Things were never normal with Veronica Mars. He was just about to stand up and start his reconnoissance over the place before she re-appeared with two glasses of juice. She placed one cordially before him before seating herself on the other end of the small loveseat.

_Something's off, really off._

"I'm sorry if this is somewhat last-minute." He turned to the small frame cuddled up against the opposite armrest. "When I couldn't find you at the club tonight, Sara said you'd call in sick. Are you feeling all right?"

She gave a barely perceptible nod.

Logan sighed. It's clammed up Veronica all over again. Last week and last night might as well not have existed. He closed his eyes. But they had existed; he was glad they did. And he wanted to make sure there were more such times to come.

A tiny sniffle beside him brought him back from his thoughts. He gulped down the contents of his glass.

"Is this about Lucia?"

She didn't look up, but she answered anyway. "Yeah."

Logan nodded.

"I'm sorry, Veronica. I know this is hard on you. But you know it's not your fault, right?" His eyes pleaded with her. She shouldn't have to feel responsible.

Veronica's lashed were lowered, her face pale. He was about to hug her tight when she spoke again. "I should've saved her, Logan."

"You tried what you could."

"But it wasn't enough," her voice broke, and her teeth clung to her lower lip.

He placed a hand on her upper arm, running up and down in an attempt to comfort her.

"It's really not your fault, okay? You couldn't have prevented something happening to her."

Her only reply was a sigh.

After a moment's thought, Logan pulled up from the couch. "What about this? We'll go over to my place, I'll pick up some Italian, and we'll let you rest your thoughts for the night before we do some more sleuthing tomorrow."

She didn't stir, though he was sure she'd heard him.

"Veronica?"

"Let's just stay here. We can order in."

His eyes narrowed for a moment. He knew even through their stilted conversation the past week that she wasn't comfortable in this apartment. The unfamiliarity and the bugs made it as unlike home as possible. Why the change tonight?

But he knew better than to argue with this version of Veronica Mars.

"Okay."

 


	9. Questions

The half-eaten lasagna lay in the open cardboard container, its taste still lingering in the air. Plastic bags and utensils scattered randomly over the coffee table and the rug beneath. On the rough brown couch nearby, a petite FBI agent sat with her shoulders hunched, her hands clinging on to a cup of cold tea while her eyes gazed blankly at an unknown point on her sweatpants.

Logan leaned against the kitchen door, took in the sight, and sighed.

The last two hours of awkward eating and sporadic small talk had been pure torture. Even his small kisses that she'd returned had been more dutiful than tender. He had once thought that not seeing Veronica was the greatest trial of his life. Now he knew better. Seeing her - but not reaching her - was turmoil unparalleled.

After she had effectively shut down every casual question he'd asked her over their simple take-out dinner, he didn't really want to try any longer. But the alternative of waiting for her response while he sunk down in his own sofa at home was even less appealing.

_Something's gotta give, and it might as well be me._

With a huff, Logan straightened up and walked over to the loveseat. Veronica was seated smack in the middle, leaving little room on either side. He opted for the armrest. And if she had even noticed him sit down, she gave no indication of it.

After wringing his fingers a dozen times, Logan cleared his throat. "Veron - "

"Are you keeping any secrets from me?" The voice that interrupted him was flat, much like a computer's.

Logan breathed deep.

_Should've seen this coming._

He looked away. "Can't say I haven't."

One peek at his peripheral vision showed a slowly nodding Veronica. Her eyes hardened by the second.

Logan sighed. "Sorry, Ronnie. It's just that I - I didn't know if you would be upset once you knew. I did think of telling you, and I - "

"You didn't know if I would be upset?" Veronica sprung up, her eyes suddenly focused, her voice incredulous. She spun around to face him. "Are you serious, Logan? You didn't know if I would be upset?  _That's_ your excuse?"

"I mean, I - I know I have no excuse, Veronica. I guess I should've told you, but I just got you back - and I - "

"That's still an excuse." Her arms crossed angrily against her chest.

Logan closed his eyes, fighting to keep his breathing steady. "It's not like you don't have secrets, Ronnie."

He knew the moment the words left his mouth that he was better off mute.

Unwilling to open his eyes to reality, he kept his eyelids lowered, waiting for her next verbal explosion. When none came, he turned up.

Anger, sadness, disappointment, and ferocity merged and burned in her eyes like hellfire. Her shoulders moved visibly to the rhythm of her laden breath. The mild shuddering of her limbs heralded a storm about to break lose.

_She's always been a tigress, but_ _now she's saber-toothed. Apparently, evolution exists._

And she was ready to pounce.

* * *

Veronica closed her eyes. The anger boiling in her blood was matched only by the disappointment charging her veins. Her heart battled between happiness over Logan's honesty and devastation over the fact that her trust had truly been misplaced.

_But, Veronica, you never asked._

Instead of observing and re-acquainting herself with him as she should've, she had jumped headfirst into an investigation with him; and as of last night, into a passionate reunion. Instead of allowing him to remain under proper suspicion, she had vouched for him without basis, putting herself in the most compromising position of her career. She, knowing she had reasons to keep secrets, had allowed him to keep his.

And she was paying the price for her rashness.

The incredulity of her position dawning on her, Veronica blurted out the only words in her mind.

"I should never have agreed to let you help."

Logan's fists tightened visibly. She forced her face to remain expressionless, letting her words sink in.

He didn't move; he didn't respond.

_One Mississippi, Two Mississippi..._

Veronica took a deep breath and spun towards the stairs.

"Veronica, wait!" His voice stopped her. She blinked hard and, against her will, slowly turned around.

Logan stood a yard away, and her eyes commanded him to stay right there.

"Veronica, please, let me explain." The desperation in his face almost touched her for a fleeting second. She shook it off.

"Explain?" Her eyebrows lifted. "Sure, maybe you can explain why your fingerprints are all over the drug container inside Lucia Gutierrez's purse."

"Fingerprints?"

"And why you told me Kurt Donavan was innocent when his car was speeding away from Lucia's bleeding body last night."

"Wait, who?"

"Logan, please! If you don't want to explain," she paused for a deep breath, "then don't tell me you're going to."

His hand was on her arm before she could spin away again.

"Veronica, wait, what fingerprints are you talking about?"

She promptly thrusted him away. He stepped back with hands in the air. "Denial doesn't look good on you, Logan."

"I'm not denying anything."

_Really? I mean - really?_

She slid her phone out of her pocket and lifted it to display the photo of the small plastic bag. "You dare tell me that you've never touched a bag like this?"

Logan leaned closer, his brow furrowing as he glanced at the screen without touching her.

_Sometimes, no answer is as good as one._

"I thought as much." Her voice was suddenly hollow with resignation. "Just - go away, Logan. I don't need more things to testify against you in court."

Quickly, she turned towards the small flight of wooden stairs; but Logan was faster than she. One grasp of his hands, one push of hers, and one painful tug-of-war later, they stepped back away from the stairs and pulled apart. She glanced askew to hide her brimming eyes.

"Logan, just go away!"

"I won't! I won't ever again!"

"This conversation is not going to do either of us any good."

"But no conversation at all is just going to let you disappear from my life again, and I'm not going to ever, ever let that happen!"

A second passed before she caught her breath. She spoke with a clenched jaw. "It's not something we can prevent from happening, Logan. I've chosen a path in life, and you've chosen yours." She took a deep, deep breath. "And there's no room for us in between."

Fighting back tears, she kept her lashes lowered. A scoff from Logan made her look up.

"And what path do you think I've chosen?"

The empty sadness of his voice threw her off guard. She bit her lip before asking again, "Why are your fingerprints on this container?"

Logan ran a hand over his hair. "We use them at the club. There's a whole stack at the office. They're for - for tips."

"Tips?"

"Yeah." He leaned against the back of the loveseat. "Whenever a server or employee does a good job at something, we put bills in those to hand to them."

Her mind struggled to comprehend. "But why? Why not just give it to them as a bonus?"

Logan sighed. "The amount of tips we give - they're not exactly, well, good for public knowledge."

She tipped her head with a puzzled frown. "I thought you said there was nothing in the office upstairs. I thought - "

"Yes, I told you that - cuz the amounts aren't exactly approved by the IRS." Logan huffed.

"The IRS?" Her voice was slowly regaining its usual calm.

"If the IRS knows how much we tip them, they'll require a much higher income tax bracket for the employees. We wanted them to get the cash instead of handing it to government. So we just give it - under the table."

Veronica let her heartbeat settle for a moment.

_He has an explanation. He isn't dealing drugs. He's innocent -_

She breathed deep. But how lame of a explanation was that? Tips in plastic containers? Trying to fool the IRS?

Before her mind sorted through her drowning thoughts, she felt Logan's arms wrap around her. She instantly stepped back.

"Ronnie, why - "

"Whose are the fourth set of fingerprints?" Her face shot up. "Morris is your manager. Larkin and you are owners. But who's the other girl?"

"What other girl?"

Veronica bit her lip before she divulged more information.

_He's still a suspect; he's still a suspect._

"Nevermind," she recanted, shaking her head. "Tell me why you dismissed Kurt Donavan."

"Kurt who?"

"Logan!" The floodwaters in her lungs rose again. "When we watched the security tapes of Ashley Lu, we saw her dancing with Kurt the whole night. Who is he?"

"Who? The one who looked like - "

She nodded at his unspoken question.

"I have no idea, Veronica." He shook his head. "I've never seen him before."

She shook her head back. "Tell me the truth, Logan."

"That  _is_  the truth."

"You know it's not!" She didn't want to raise her voice, but it had taken on a spirit of its own.

"It is!"

"But you didn't even mention anything else. You only mentioned him. You must know something, Logan; just tell me!"

"Veronica!" His voice abruptly exploded, his eyes aflame. "You have to trust me!"

"How can I trust you when you keep on keeping secrets from me?" Her voice trembled as she clutched her hands to her chest.

"I'm not!"

"But you said you were!"

Logan raised his arms and opened his mouth; she braced for his retort. A silent second later, he fell back. He shook his head, his fingers digging into the sofa fabric. When he spoke again, his voice was tinged with sadness. "The human mind is a strange thing, Veronica. It allows itself to take whatever it sees and contort reality to reconcile with its own convictions. If you want to determine that I'm not worthy of your trust, then every breath I take will only convince you more that you're right."

_But I want to trust you, I -_

"I can explain, Veronica. I can explain all night, all day, and for the rest of my life." He looked up, his face resigned - crestfallen. "But if your mind refuses to accept whatever I say. If you want to cynically believe that things can never work out between us, then - " He exhaled. "Then there will never be enough room for us in between."

In one motion, he strode over, kissed her forehead, and walked out the door.


	10. One Step Back

_"The human mind is a strange thing, Veronica. It allows itself to take whatever it sees and contort reality to reconcile with its own convictions. If you want to determine that I'm not worthy of your trust, then every breath I take will only convince you more that you're right."_

Veronica gasped as her eyes popped open in the dark room, lighted only by a thin ray of pale blue streetlight peeping in through the wooden blinds.

_Anyone who said nightmares left with childhood obviously never had any real dreams._

She dropped back against the pillow with a frustrated sigh. Behind her closed eyelids, threads of emotions swirled in a thousand directions.

Over the years, they've had their share of arguments, even fights. Every time, they had moved on. Either Logan would forgive her for running out on him, or they would try to ignore that the disagreement ever even happened. It didn't work, she knew that; but she thought it worked for them.

She exhaled slowly.

But tonight,  _he_ was the one who walked out on her. He - the one who always had the greater faith in their relationship down to the early hours of last night's stay-in dinner - he was the one who pronounced them unworkable.

Veronica shut her eyes hard, squeezing her eyelids to a painful level. Logan had given up on them.

Small tremors in her neck spread down her shoulders and arms and overtook her torso. She rolled up, burying her face in the elbows locked around her pulled-up knees as she continued to tremble.

She used to be an adrenaline junkie, someone yearning for things far greater than the humdrum of normal life. But when her constants of fatherly love, willful autonomy, and devoted ex-boyfriend were stripped away one by one, they left behind a cavity that threatened to undermine her entire existence.

She needed them, after all.

Huddled into a ball, Veronica rocked herself into an unsteady sleep. When she stirred again, a sliver of sunrise had begun to peek in.

Her page chirped on the nightstand, and she lifted her eyes for a moment.

_Can't be anything good._

She buried her face once more. And when several follow-up beeps gave way to the incessant ringing of an incoming call, she groaned, grabbed a pillow, and - in mythical ostrich fashion - pulled the pillow over her head and ears.

_What else could they possibly want?_

She had been the most cooperative agent she could be in the past twenty-four hours. She had confronted and rejected Logan. She had filed her report on the victims. It wasn't as if she could bring Tanya, Ashley, and Lucia back to life. Heck, she couldn't even save her own fath -

With that thought, Veronica jumped up and snatched up her belligerent phone.

"Is my da - I mean, the pressing issue - pressing, particular - particular issue - okay?" Her fumbled question was every bit a demand.

"No news yet." Seth sounded way too awake for the hour. "I was actually just calling because, well, I wanted to know if, uhm, if you're okay."

Veronica sighed in a mixture of relief and annoyance. "And what makes you think I wouldn't be?"

"Well, uhm, Agent Stone messaged me early this morning that you had, uhm, a visitor last night."

_Cursed bugs._

"Yes, Logan visited. But that doesn't mean that I'm not okay." She used every bit of self-control she possessed to prevent her displeasure from infiltrating her tone.

"I mean, yeah, sure." She didn't have to see Seth's fidgeting to hear it. "It's just that he also said that, uhm, that you guys had an argument?"

"And how is that the business of you and the FBI?"

"I know it's not, okay? It's just that I - I just wanted to know that you're safe."

The laughter than escaped her mouth was entirely belittling. "I'm safe, Seth. I'm in a  _safehouse_! I'm a fully capable FBI agent. And besides, Logan would never hurt me."

_At least not physically._

The mere thought of his stinging words brought her a new shudder. A silent moment passed as the pain of last night's nightmares revisited her.

"It's nice that you think so, Veronica," Seth responded, coolly. "But he's still a suspect, okay? You can't just keep letting him off by giving him chance after chance."

"I'm not doing that, okay?" She replied mindlessly as she shuffled off the bed. There was no point staying in a sleepless bed.

Halfway to her closet, Veronica froze. What had she just said?

"I know what you think, Agent Mars. It's just that as an agent - "

Seth's voice drowned away as Veronica's breath grew increasingly shallow. A chance, a chance - she wasn't giving him a chance. Was that the real problem?

Veronica leaned a hand against the wall, steadying her body and her mind. She wanted Logan, loved him, even. She wanted him every bit as much as he wanted her. Their rendezvous the other night had been a direct result of those mutual feelings. But was their relationship never able to stand a chance only because she had never given it a real chance in the first place?

Finding the room increasingly suffocating, she quickly pulled out of her pajamas and slipped on the first coordinated outfit her hands could find - white T-shirt, dark jeans, can't find a belt - who cared?

" - and Veronica, besides, Logan Echolls could cause you serious harm." Seth's voice re-emerged into her consciousness.

"Yes, yes, I know," she huffed rapidly as she stuffed her pajamas into a drawer.

"That's good."

_Finally, he's ready to just shut up._

"I was worried, you know? I mean, when I saw that he's still at your front door, I - "

"He what?" Her heart flared vigorously against her chest. A minute later, Seth was left shouting out of a phone on the bedroom floor.

Hair in a mess, mouth roughly rinsed, and clothes in rumpled disarray - she was every bit indecent as she flew downstairs. But who could care for decency when your very life-source is on the line? She flung her front door open.

She knew what to expect, really; but knowledge never did equal realization.

Tears immediately threatened to cloud her vision at the sight before her - leaning against his convertible, with hands dug deep into his jeans, stood a bug-eyed Logan Echolls, his face as dark as the shirt he wore. He looked up at her abrupt appearance and offered her a weak smile.

His voice was as still as the morning air. "I never made it home."

Veronica caught her breath as two tears finally escaped her eyes.

_What did I do to deserve this?_

Her every limb wanted to run straight into his arms and kiss him crazy, but her ever-dominant mind opted for slow steps towards him until they were only a foot apart. He straightened up at her presence.

"You never left?" Her voice felt entirely too squeaky.

"Well, I tried going around for a bit; but somehow, I always ended up right here," he offered with a small, guarded smile.

The flutter in her belly hinted that he was referring to something much longer and deeper than his night around the block.

"Listen, Veronica." The sincerity in his voice was as genuine as it was a decade ago. "I know I haven't been making things easy for you. It's just that - I've wanted us to work so badly. And last night, when you asked me those questions, I just felt that I was screwing up again. And I - "

"It's okay." Her words escaped her mouth before they did her mind. "I'm sorry too. I guess I - well, there were better ways to ask."

She gave him a smile - just a small one of intended truce.

Logan nodded and huffed. He plugged his hands in his pocket again. "When I said I was keeping secrets, Veronica, I didn't think you'd expect it to be about the case."

_Okay?_

She nodded slowly, forcing herself to ignore the instinctive suspicions brewing in the recesses of her mind.

"It's actually, well, about my - uhm, business," he mustered.

"You mean the tips?"

"Oh no, not that." Logan cocked his head, probably looking for words. "The Marines isn't the only business I have right now."

"I know. You're also a partner in Mac's online enterprises."

"Yes, there's that." He nodded. "But there are also quite a few, well, associations that I'm a part of - that I've started, actually."

"Okay?"

"And one of the main ones is, well - the St. Michael Medical Foundation." He basically exhaled the last few words.

"St. Michael - you mean - the one that - "

"Gave your father the grant," he confessed with a sigh. "I'm sorry, Veronica. I mean, when I heard about your dad two years ago, I wanted to help. And knowing me, the best and maybe only way to help would be financial. I promise that the grant has really also helped so many other retired policemen. And your dad's new tests will all be covered for too. I just didn't tell you because you might be upset and I - "

Her lips stopped him mid-sentence as she hurled herself into his arms. Her forearms locked behind his neck, anchoring herself against him, she poured every bit of her raging emotions into the meeting of their lips. Logan responded instantly - instinctively, even - his hands snaking around her to trap her securely against himself. While one hand encircled the small of her back, his other one wandered up to brace her neck as he leaned in to kiss her deeper.

Since the very first kiss they'd shared in high school, no one had been able to ever re-create the sensation of Logan's soft lips on hers. The way their lips would meet, open, close, and part repeatedly - the way their tongues would converge in perfect and natural synchronization - she had never been able to find with any other soul.

_Kisses don't make passion. It's the passion that makes the kiss._

When an early-rising neighborhood jogger passed them and whistled their way, Veronica almost giggled before she pulled back gently. Logan set her down with a smile of his own. For a minute, they just pressed their foreheads together, catching their breaths in pleasant recovery.

"I guess that means you're not upset?" He broke the silence first.

"Are you kidding?" She panted, "I can't wait to show you just how pissed I am."

And Logan smiled the deep and contented smile of the genuinely happy. "Your place or mine?"

"Well, I kinda liked looking at your false ceiling, shaky as it was."

* * *

"What made you decide to tell me?" Veronica asked as she ran her fingers lightly up and down the side of his face. The pillow they shared was barely enough for the two of them, but that was besides the point.

"Why can't we just cuddle like normal people?" He hooked his arm around her waist and pulled her naked body even closer to his. He pressed a kiss to her forehead with a smile.

"Because we're too epic to be normal," she responded with a smile of her own, her eyes lit with youthful bliss.

_Gosh, she is gorgeous._

Considering how young they had first fallen in love, statistics would indicate that their bedroom enthusiasm could've only gone downhill. But nothing could be farther from the truth. Every time their now-mature bodies connected as one - with her fuller curves under his hands and his toned body pressing against hers - things only got better and better. Cheesy as it was, he thought they were perfect.

"Seriously, why?" Her voice came with a nudge.

Logan snapped out of his musings. "Well, I could ask you the same question. Why did you decide to trust me?"

Her eyes diverted in thought for a moment. "Maybe I just did?"

Logan smiled. "You know, the Chinese once said that: 'One step back makes the world a wider place.'"

"Do elaborate, O Cryptic One."

He nuzzled her neck. "Well, we just both needed that step back, you know? When you're too focused on one issue or concern, it blinds you to everything else."

One look at her face showed him her understanding. Perhaps she had taken her one step back too.

With a smile, Logan pressed his lips against hers in a deep, longing kiss. And with nothing to stop them, they ravished each other with their lips and their hands, enjoying every last inch of each other's body. Amidst the soft lights and silken sheets in Logan's bedroom, there was no FBI, no paparazzi, and no one to answer to - nothing except the beatings of their own hearts.

"You think we'll ever be normal?" Logan whispered as she panted on his chest after yet another round of breathless kisses.

"Like 'I-wuv-you-beary-much' normal?" The smile on her face, inches from his own, almost transported him to another era.

"No, just a dinner date at a nice restaurant normal, you know? Or a walk on the beach normal. We do live in California, Bobcat."

She kissed him softly before laying down her head again. "Maybe, you know, when all - all this is over."

_Did she just say yes?_

A foreign feeling of happiness pervaded his senses like a chill. Maybe, just maybe, she was actually willing to work it out this time.

"Well, that's good." He fought to keep his voice level with a joke. "I mean, it wouldn't do to have you running around knowing where I live, you know. I wouldn't want to kill you to keep my secrets."

Veronica's body instantly froze.

_Oh no._

She jerked up, fire in her eyes, as she clutched the bedding beside them.

"Sorry, Ronnie, did I say something wrong? I didn't mean - "

"That's it!"

"What?"

"That's it! That's why the girls are being murdered!"

"Huh?" Logan pushed himself up to a seated position, mirroring her actions.

"Logan, don't you see?" She grabbed both of his shoulders. "The reason that the motives for all the deaths are so inconsistent is that it's another motive altogether. The murders are meant to keep them quiet."

"From - the drugs?"

Veronica nodded. "The drug-dealing probably involves a much bigger circle. There must be dozens of other clients. But these girls - the ones who made it too obvious - they had to be killed before they spread the secret."

"The murders are a cover-up for the actual lucrative side of it all - the drugs."

Veronica nodded again.

Logan tried to piece together his thoughts while Veronica scrambled out of bed and into her clothes. A dull vibration on his night stand had him picking up his phone.

"Yes, Chris?"

He could sense Veronica listening.

"No, it's okay, I can talk. I see - interesting - okay, thanks. Keep me posted."

Her inquisitive eyebrows met him the moment he hung up.

"I've got news." He breathed deep. "Last night, I called and had security track the people who were around all three nights of the murders."

She stood before him half-dressed, pausing to take in the news.

"There were only three people outside of myself: Connor Larkin, Phil Morris," he paused, "and an heiress called Elise Donavan."

He knew at Veronica's sharp intake that she'd recognized the name.

"I guess you have to go to work now, huh?" He didn't want to sound bitter, and he truly hoped he didn't.

What he didn't expect, however, was her sudden hand on his forearm.

"Logan, I need your help."

 


	11. Honey Trap

"So I just speak normally and you'll hear me?"

"Roger that, Echolls."

Hearing the smile in her voice, Logan let loose one of his own as he fidgeted with his earpiece. With hair as short as his, they had to get a little creative in concealing the item, eventually settling on the wireless, clear one currently taped behind his ear. He stretched out his shoulders.

Who knew he could feel this jittery inside the Red Room?

"You okay?" Veronica's voice came over the line.

"Yeah, I'm okay," he huffed. "So should I be sitting or standing? I've already gotten Chris to call her in."

"Doesn't matter. Just let loose your natural charm."

"Thought you'd never admit to them existing, my darling."

Her youthful laughter made him shiver.

_She still does it to me._

"Seriously, Lo, just relax. I'm sorry you have to go through with this, but since Elise Donavan wants to dress like a 1920's flapper, those gloves never leave her hands."

"And I'm supposed to be able to make her take them off?" He sank into the crimson padded wall seats.

"By your irresistible manly guile."

"You want me in bed with the devil?"

"Nope. Only I get to do that, sir."

Logan smiled. "Only you get to go to bed with the dev - "

"Be serious, Echolls!"

"Hey, you told me to relax."

Veronica's sigh came with the hint of a chuckle. "We need her to maybe shake hands with you or something. Then after that, make sure to have her touch either a glass or the table bare-handed. The black marble-top will be your best friend. Once we get her fingerprint matched with the plastic container, we'll have enough grounds for an arrest."

"Copy, Agent Mars."

"You know, it's weird when you call - "

The screech of the sliding door interrupted their conversation.

"Ms. Elise Donavan, sir," Chris announced with a bow.

_Okay, show time._

Logan pushed himself up from the cushion, standing a few inches above his visitor. "Thank you, Chris."

"Yes, sir. If you need me, sir, I'll be right outside."

Logan nodded absent-mindedly as Chris shut the door, a soft click announcing the auto-lock. With a deep breath, he pulled on a smile and looked up at the jewelry heiress he had summoned, hand extended. His eyes almost squinted at her face.

_She looks familiar, very familiar._

"Thank you for obliging the call, Miss Donavan."

Loose, red curls cascading around her sleeveless shoulders, Elise stood tall and commanding in her heels. The hemline on her black dress, conservative for the age, was offset by the plunging neckline that plummeted almost to her navel. The glitter all over her handbag shimmered in sync with the diamonds in her hair.

Momentarily distracted by her unusual outfit, Logan trained his eyes on her face.

"Ma'am?" He smiled again.

"Mr. Lester," her voice tumbled out with warmth and an almost-baritone pitch. "I can't say I'm surprised by this sudden appointment. It's been a long time coming."

She paraded past him, hand unshaken, and dropped herself on the nearest armchair. She swiveled to face him. Her black outfit, combined with the ebony seat, made her curls look almost aflame. And in the midst of all the flame, two large, stern green eyes stared at him in challenge.

_Did she know what I was trying to do?_

Logan straightened up and walked politely towards her. He placed a hand on the table. "I apologize, Miss Donavan, for not inviting you and your brother here sooner. It has come to my understanding that you two are loyal patrons of The Marines and every bit deserve VIP treatment."

"Oh, really?" Her face tilted ever-so-slightly. "And what treatment may that be, sir?"

Logan suddenly found the oxygen level in the room to be increasingly insufficient.

_Who is she?_

"Well, for starters, we can celebrate our acquaintance with a friendly glass of wine." He masterfully poured out two generous glasses. He lifted one to her; she took it promptly. He lifted the other in the air. "To new friendships."

"To new friendships."

They both sipped, their eyes locked in a deathly stare.

_Dammit, forgot the gloves._

Logan repositioned his glass back on the vast table. He tugged at the collar of his dress shirt before popping a button. "It's a little warm for so much wine, don't you think, Miss Donavan? Perhaps you'd like to make yourself comfortable?"

He sat down against the wall, taking the chance to catch an elusive breath.

When he looked up, Elise was standing a mere two feet away, her neckline - framing her ample assets - paused right at his line of vision. Logan gulped.

"Miss Donavan here, Miss Donavan there," she singsonged. "Aren't we a little formal - Mr. Echolls?"

Before he could react, Elise had one knee perched on the edge of the chair between his legs and her hands propped against the wall on both sides of his head. Her face dangled centimeters from his. Her hair brushed against his shoulders. Her eyes - her eyes - they look familiar - they belonged to -

_Lilly._

* * *

"You know, it's weird when you call - "

The screeching of the sliding door quickly silenced her. With bated breath, Veronica didn't even notice herself tipping forward against the counter.

_Come on, Logan. You can do it._

If Elise Donavan wasn't going to open up to a waitress, to a pretend CEO called Seth, or to any security camera - then maybe she would to the most charming and powerful man in the building. For a quick moment, a sliver of envy spiralled through Veronica's heart.

_She's getting a date with him before I do._

But hey, the case was more important. She lowered her head, subconsciously using her hair as a curtain from the club noise.

"Look, girl, we've got tables to serve." Sara punctuated her demand with an unceremonious shove of a full tray towards her.

Veronica jumped, took her companion in, and offered an apologetic grin. Her voice transposed instantly with a giggle. "Oh, sorry, Sara. I was, I dunno - too caught up in the moment! Isn't this club awesome? I'm so glad I chose to work here."

Eager to escape Sara's eye-roll, she grabbed the tray and entered the crowd. She cocked her head slightly, trying to make out the pieces of conversation inside the Red Room. Against all of Seth's protests, she had insisted to trust Logan and let him help. Their partnership, if not her career, was on the line.

_And it better pay off._

"Thank you for obliging the call, Miss Donavan." Logan's soothing tone travelled over the line of communication. Veronica smiled; he could handle her no problem.

Her pager vibrated against her waist as she dipped down to pass out a couple of cocktails.

_Seth and timing just don't get along. Never did, never will._

She flipped the channel quickly, whispering hoarsely, "Later, Seth."

One hand balancing the tray, she flipped back to Logan's line. She barely heard a word before her pager buzzed again.

Annoyed, she maneuvered into a corner before switching lines again. "Seth, I said later."

"Agent Mars, this is Agent Stone."

_Thank God for good balancing instincts._

Steadying her tray, she pulled back further into the shadows. "Yes, sir. May I help you?"

"Agent Perkins informed me that you are working a possible suspect tonight."

"Yes, sir?"

"And I would never want to interrupt with that."

"I understand, sir."

_Never knew verbal irony to be his strong point._

"But, Agent Mars, I believe you would appreciate this little interruption."

"Yes, sir?"

"You see, I have updates on a particularly pressing issue."

The anger in her veins instantly shifted to anxiety. Her voice sounded entirely foreign. "Yes, sir?"

"Please find a seat, Ms. Mars. I have someone on the line for you."

* * *

_Veronica, I would much appreciate a word of advice right now. This 007 stuff isn't as fun as the movies make it._

Uncertain where to place his hands, Logan settled on keeping them tight against the sides of the seat cushion. He refocused his averted gaze on Elise's face. Her green eyes, bright and fiery, gazed almost haughtily at him.

She thought she owned him; he had to let her know otherwise.

"Listen, Miss Donavan - or, Elise, if you prefer."  _God, let my voice stay normal._ "Maybe we can discuss anything on your mind in a more - uhm, comfortable way?"

Inches from his own, her lips twitched into a smirk. She batted her eyelids. When she leaned in, Logan instinctively turned his face to the side.

_No wicked witch kisses, thank you._

Undeterred, Elise pressed close against his ear with a low, seductive whisper. "I thought this  _was_ more comfortable - lover."

_Oh goodness, she's Lilly in a red wig._

Unable to shake the uncomfortable shivers racing down his spine, Logan placed his hands on her shoulder and firmly pushed her upright. He stood and stepped back, retreating at least a couple of yards. "Listen, Elise. I - "

His words hung empty in the air at the sight of his earpiece - twisted ever-so-casually between Elise's gloved fingers. Logan's hand instantly hovered behind his ear.

_Stupid Logan. Stupid, stupid Logan. She wasn't going in for the kiss._

The sound of a quick tap on the table turned his eyes to where his earpiece now lay. Logan looked up, desperately forming his words.

"Listen, Mr. Echolls, let's just get to the point," Elise spoke with an eerie calm, arms crossed. "If you want to keep secrets, so can I. But if you want to trade secrets, maybe you need to be more willing to let loose some of your own."

Logan swallowed, his hands quickly fisting.

_I usually don't hit women. But she's fast disqualifying herself._

A controlling smile on her face, Elise reached into her clutch and procured a handkerchief. She dabbed at her nose, ever prim and poised.

"Besides," she spoke with an air of almost-nonchalance, "I wouldn't want to have to force anything out of you."

"Excuse me, Miss Donavan. I don't see how that is possible."

She laughed - she laughed with as much wickedness as can be possibly be found in a laugh, her curls bouncing generously as she threw back her head. How can so much beauty and so much evil indwell the same body?

Logan shook his head.

_Like Lilly had ever been a saint._

Soft, muffled clicks on the carpet notified him of her nearing presence. Logan looked up.

_But the last time Miss Lilly Kane was sashaying towards me like this, I had been just as powerless to resist._

Logan inhaled. The past few days had brought him the soft, passionate intimacy he'd come to enjoy with Veronica. They'd indulged in the absolute bliss of exclusive affection. He knew that - more than anything - was what he wanted. The brash, daring advances of this barely-clothed woman were far from his real ideals.

_But that's what you used to want, Logan._

His ideals now were different, much different. He wanted nothing less than Veronica's heart and life joined with his. But after years and years of drowning himself in the mindless seduction of superficial women, trying to forget the one who'd gotten away, some habits had turned to reflex. And now those reflexes were making him pay.

Logan shook his head, clearing his mind. He was here to play her; not vice versa.

"I'm not sure what you're doing, Miss Donavan," his eyes looked away from the audience of his words, who was by now strutting audaciously towards him.

"Well, maybe I could make it a little more clear."

A second later, Logan stood completely frozen as 55,000 volts ran through his body.

* * *

"Veronica? It's me, Alicia."

Her teeth almost tore the table napkin as Veronica tried to stifle any voluntary noises she might make. As a rule, family members weren't allowed to contact agents on the field, or even know where or who they were. Veronica's own sparse extended family had been one of the many reasons the FBI had so gladly taken her in.

Hearing directly from family could only mean something extremely important - and half of her begged to stay ignorant.

"Veronica?"

A series of shuffling noises flew over the receiver. Veronica withdrew further into the shadows before she dared to open her mouth. "Yes?"

"Oh, Shannon, I mean - I'm sorry for disturbing you." Alicia was obviously in the presence of an agent.

"No, no problem. What's - um, well, what's up?"

"It's your father, Ve - Shannon."

Her heart sped up to a frenzy, its force almost exploding out of her chest. Yet whisper she must. "Yes? What about the - uhm, issue?"

"The biopsy results came out this morning. I contacted your, uhm, colleagues right away. They allowed me to call you."

_Please, whatever deity there might be - please._

"The masses in his colon are benign. He's healthy and cancer-free," Alicia's voice concluded over the line.

A few seconds passed before the words sank in.

_Masses benign - cancer-free and healthy - Dad is healthy._

Relief tumbled out of her lungs like a crumbling avalanche. The tears of sorrow that had been ready to overflow now streamed down her face in gratefulness and comfort. She wasn't losing her father; the moment she solved this case, she could be seeing him again.

"Of course, he still has some procedures to undergo," Alicia informed pointedly. "The masses are benign, but we still need them removed."

"Yes, yes, of course."

_When you expect the worse, everything else is better. Sometimes, it pays to be a pessimist._

"I can't speak much longer - Shannon." Alicia still struggled with the unusual address. "It's nice to hear from you."

"And I to hear from you." A smile had made its way to her face.

"Take care, okay? Bye."

"Bye."

The line switched instantly back to Agent Stone. And the man she'd wanted to plummet to the ground a minute ago was now a person she would gladly hug.

"Thank you so much, sir," Veronica mustered, incapacitated by her circumstances.

"You earned it, Miss Mayfield. I was informed that you've been working hard."

_I never know to loathe or thank Seth._

"Thank you, sir."

The line cut off without another word.

Still shivering, Veronica rapidly wiped her face clean. She steadied her breath, hoping hard that the dim club lights would cover her disheveled form. She couldn't afford suspicion - of all times, not now.

_After all, not everyone has seen me like this. Of the people in this club, there's only been -_

With a sharp breath, she instantly reconnected her line with Logan's. The soft echoes of the Red Room reverberated in her earpiece, but no conversation came through.

"Logan? Logan?" Every iteration of his name came just a little louder. "Logan? Mr. Lester? Lo!"

And just like that day at the hospital, the world stilled and whirled at the same time. She had to find him; she needed him now - right now.

Tray, drinks, and washed-out face forgotten, Veronica tore through the crowds towards the Red Room. Taking the fastest steps her short legs could allow, she pulled onwards and onwards to the elusive door of frosted glass. Two steps before she could crash into the owners' haven, the strong arms of a security officer held her off by the shoulders.

One glance into his face had her blurting, "Chris, you know who I am. And neither of us are going to be happy if the person inside is not completely safe. He's in danger. I just know. Please, let me in."

Her captor narrowed his eyes beneath his bushy brown brows.

_Yes, Chris. I'm his girlfriend, his lover. I'm also the person whose father you're wiring money to help - but I can't really tell you that._

His imperceptible nod almost escaped her. But before she could respond, he slipped open the heavy door and shoved them in.

Entirely unoccupied, the room boasted only the seats, the table, and the single earpiece on its vast surface. Veronica stepped forward, heart in her throat. Between the small technological wonder and the cold black marble, a white handkerchief spread out in almost pristine evenness, boldly displaying the letters "ED."


	12. Hot on the Trail

"May I know the problem?"

Veronica whipped around, handkerchief in hand and earpiece safely tucked behind her skirt, at the sound of the high but firm male voice. One glance of the man beside Chris's tall form triggered her instant mental search engine. Medium-height, crew-cut hair, with slight and subtle wrinkles on an all-American face - Phil Morris, owner and manager of The Marines. She had seen him plenty, but never face-to-face.

"Chris, could you explain what's going on?" Morris repeated.

"Mr. Lester had me let her in, sir," Chris spoke before she could.

_Why is he covering for me?_

Morris looked over at her, brows raised. "I think I remember you. You're new - Shannon, am I right?"

"Yes, sir." She responded simply. "I - I've been serving Mr. Lester, sir."

"Serving?"

"Yes, sir."

_They would think otherwise. You need them to think otherwise._

"In more ways than one, Mr. Morris," she added.

A slow nod accompanied the unsurprised expression that emerged on Morris's face. "And I reckon we were having a little - rendezvous?"

"No, sir," her voice jumped higher at the agitation. "We were supposed to, sir; but he - he's gone."

Her fingers wrapped tightly around the small square of white fabric.

"Gone?"

"Yes, sir," Chris cut in. "When I brought Miss Mayfield in, Mr. Lester had disappeared."

"Is there any way - any way you could help us find him?" For a moment, Shannon and Veronica were one and the same.

"Maybe he's at the office upstairs."

No more than a minute slipped by before the three unlikely companions tumbled into the dark-walled office upstairs. Using whatever recollection she had from previous peeks and pictures, Veronica rapidly scoured each nook and corner amongst the mahogany furniture, determined to find the smallest trace of any clue. The men stood their ground near the door.

"Who was he with, Chris?"

"Ms. Elise Donavan, sir."

"A woman? Were they - uhm, friendly?"

"I have no information," came Chris's curt reply.

_No, she is a murdering millionaire heiress who could be killing your investment partner right this very instant._

What could she say? Veronica's knuckles flashed white as she twisted the fabric in her hand, her heart ready to burst through her flesh.

"I'll look her up."

Morris could look up a customer? How high-security was this place?

Veronica braced herself instinctively behind the manager, peering over his shoulder as his fingers danced across the track pad. A few taps later, a list of profiles popped up in neat lines within the browser window on the LED screen.

"Any guest that visits above three times is given a basic background check," Morris explained, apparently sensing her unspoken question. "We don't want to be liable for any kidnappings and the like."

_Good luck with that now._

Morris typed in the name and ran the search engine. Another double-click yielded a pop-up window with Elise's picture and a bullet list of information.

"Elise Donavan, age 28. Daughter to Richard Donavan, owner of Diamants Luxury Corp. Travels in white limousine. Family property in Los Angeles include Donavan Estate and three warehouses by San Pedro Bay. Favors tequila and scotch," Morris read mechanically.

_And how much do they check their employees?_

Veronica swallowed the lump in her throat. Even if Logan's whereabouts could be narrowed down to two locations, one question remained. "How did she get him out of here?"

"Probably the same way you'll go after him."

Her eyes narrowed as she cocked her head. "Sorry, sir?"

Morris slid his hand underneath the desk. One loud beep later, one third of the ceiling tiles receded to reveal the urban night sky. Clear sounds of steel blades whisking through air pervaded the small office.

Veronica breathed in. "A helipad, sir?"

Morris nodded. "I'll have someone check the estate, but you should probably head for the bay."

"Should we call the police for escort, sir?" Shannon's high voice returned.

"I'll accompany you, madame." Chris stepped up with his words.

"Miss Mayfield, I will contact LAPD immediately," Morris efficiently took charge. "I know you are anxious. Mr. London here will make sure we stay in touch."

As she nodded, Veronica's hand flew back to make sure, for once, that her line with Seth stayed on.

* * *

Skyscrapers morphed into little more than dotted squares divided by lines of bright yellow highways as the powerful helicopter surged into the California night sky. Five cases, seven identities, and over a dozen arrests under her belt - but none had prepared her for the chase she faced tonight. Glued together solely by the urgency of the moment, Veronica buried her fingertips into the leather seat.

_He's going to be okay._

She scoffed to herself.

_Lying to others is a hundred times easier._

"Miss Mayfield." Chris's emotionless voice barely made it past the merciless chopping above them. He placed an unexpected hand on her shoulder. "We'll find him."

She nodded as he let go.

She'd never doubted that they would find him. She knew they would. Even without LAPD, professional bodyguard, or getaway helicopter, she would find him at the end. The question was - in what condition?

She fixed her eyes on the hazy city sky.

_Should've never let him help._

* * *

The slow sensation of awakening by discomfort roused Logan from his sedation. He shook his head once, twice. His mind ticked off the possible sources of pain one by one before settling on the tight knots around his wrists - wound behind him on the cold metal chair.

He breathed deep. The rusty smell of unkempt metal mixed undeniably with a whiff of ocean air. His eyes wandered, barely perceiving anything past the circle of light created by the sole light bulb dangling above his head. His limbs and his chest felt tired, heavy.

_Tied up in a deserted warehouse all alone under a lamp - geez, it's right out of Aaron's sick movies. Creativity, anyone?_

A series of rhythmic taps echoed from the cement floor and reverberated throughout the large enclosed space. Someone was with him - someone with heels.

Bile churned in his stomach as he recollected the devilish glint in Elise's eyes as she had pressed the drugged handkerchief against his face the very moment he'd collapsed from the tase. Femme fatales had never wandered far from him.

"Are we comfortable, Mr. Echolls?" Elise's face emerged into the light the same time her voice cut the air.

Logan growled in response.

"I take it not so much?" Her lips curled up in gleeful defiance.

"What do you want?" He hissed, his fingers deftly testing the ropes around them.

Elise laughed, her vocals multiplied by the abundant concrete surfaces. Her hands perched haughtily on her generous hips. "You tell me, Echolls. You march around the club every other day, oozing out your brooding charm. You never speak to anyone outside of that mysterious Red Room. Then one day, all of a sudden, you start pulling yourself into corners with your little blond waitress, pretending no one hears the gasps and giggles. Then you have the audacity to call me up for a pretend tête-à-tête?"

Logan bit inside his mouth as he struggled with the knots.

_Unless she's a girl scout gone bad, she must've had some other muscle._

"I apologize if my invitation offended you, Miss Donavan." He kept his tone cordial.

"Your  _invitation_ offended me?" Her eyes narrowed, her smirk remaining. "You have quite an imagination, Mr. Echolls."

"And reality would be?"

Three more clicks of her heels brought her right in front of him. She leaned down at the waist, posing her nose centimeters from his. Her green eyes glowed, teased. "Reality is that I've figured you out, Echolls; but I minded my own business as you did yours. But since that little girlfriend of yours showed up, you seem to have changed your mind."

Logan kept his eyes level, unflinching.

"And she's going to learn her lesson the hard way." With premeditated ease, she pressed her index finger against his chest, winked, and walked away.

Logan glanced down.

His mouth dried.

Strapped firmly against his chest was a sprawling, square mechanism laced with a thousand wires. Right in the middle, besides the button Elise had pushed, three bold digital numbers blinked red-on-black - the 8 minutes he had left to live.

"Don't try to move. If you carry that package anywhere past the light," Elise turned around as she singsonged, "it'll be kaboom instantly."

Her gloved fingers danced in the air at her mock pantomime of an explosion.

_Gloved hands. Fingerprint. Veronica._

Maybe he could do her one last favor.

Logan breathed deep. "It's a shame we didn't get acquainted under different circumstances, Elise; I believe we wouldn't made good - companions."

"Oh?" Her voice was half menace and half flirtation.

"I much prefer the company of heiresses over little gold-diggers."

_Smile, Logan - forget the bomb ticking your life away._

"And perhaps that shall be your regret,  _Logan._ " Her voice sounded firm, but her face had begun to relent.

"Maybe it shall," he stated. "But I could always use one less."

"One less regret?"

"Give a dying man his last kiss?"

She pursed her lips, openly considering.

_Come on, Echolls charm. At least one more time._

Logan batted his eyelids.

With a caustic laugh, she sauntered over, grabbed his face in her hands, and kissed him squarely on the lips.

Logan reciprocated instantly, kissing her fiercely, his masterful lips hooking hers between his own.

_Come on, move those hands._

Almost in response, her fingers ghosted down the sides of his face, her thumbs anchoring on the side of his lips.

"Ouch!"

Elise pulled back at the bite on her fingertip. Eyes in a haze, she numbly pulled off her glove, exposing her pale arms. She licked unceremoniously at the small wound.

It took extreme effort not to spit away the drops of blood by his mouth, but Logan held his own. "Are you okay? I'm sorry. It was simply too - electric."

_If I survive this, I'm gonna have to wash this mouth a few hundred times._

Elise shook her head, obviously annoyed. She glanced at Logan and started at the apparent number she saw.

He looked down - five minutes.

She marched over and grabbed his face in her bare palm, angst in place of tenderness. She stared at him; he stared back.

"You know what's electric, honey?" She barked, her hand trailing down to his chest. She pointed firmly against the black screen. "This."

With that, she whisked around and disappeared.

* * *

_DE1908._

Veronica ran towards the cluster of warehouses, Chris at her heels.

_DE1908 - why does it sound so familiar?_

She halted, almost losing her balance. Her eyes burned as she stared at the white vehicle - an awkward contrast to the surrounding drab.

_DE1908._

She glanced down at the fabric in her hands, then at the warehouse beside the car. Of course it had to be the farthest one. Ignoring the direction Chris took, she sprung towards the door partially hidden by the sunset shadows.

"Seth, northeast warehouse."

She was running before the coarse whisper made it out of her mouth.

* * *

_For someone dying in five minutes, I sure have very little pleasant flash-backing to do._

Decidedly refusing to glance at the clock of doom on his chest, Logan threw back his face. The lightbulb blinked - as much as his very life did. He closed his eyes. Here he was - the one and only Logan Echolls - tied to a chair in an empty warehouse with a bomb attached to his body. He never did look for drama in his life; but it always hunted him down.

For a moment, Logan scoffed at his own rashness. What's the point of retrieving a fingerprint that would be blown to unrecognizable smithereens in a handful of seconds? He couldn't even really explain to himself what had spurred him to pull the little stunt on Elise, other than an impulse to die as meaningful of a death as possible for the orphaned child of two actors long fallen from grace.

_I guess everyone wants to die a hero._

A small beep alerted him to another minute gone by.

He looked down - four minutes left.

_I love you, Veronica. Thank you for the beautiful memories._

He tried to inhale deeply in spite of the constrictions against his chest. At least this time, he wasn't the one being accused of murder. Guess everyone deserved a turn at being the victim.

"Logan!"

He jerked up his head at the sharp cry.

_Now I'm hearing things._

"Veronica?" He didn't dare hope.

"Logan! Logan!" A series of pattering footsteps brought his pixie blond into sight. The emotions that contorted her features hurt him as much as if they'd been his own.

"Logan, they - " she fell on her knees before him and clasped his knees. One hand started to wander up to the black screen, its numbers jittering faster than either would care. Her eyes brimmed with tears.

"Listen, hon, I got this." He fought to stay clear-headed. "You got that print-lifting paper you talked about last night with you?"

She looked up, seemingly slow to understand, and nodded slightly.

"Good. I currently have a perfect fingerprint of Elise right on this screen on my chest. I need you to lift the print and get yourself out of here - immediately, you understand?"

If she understood, she didn't show it.

"Veronica!" A high male voice echoed from the corner entrance. The couple looked up.

"Seth, over here!" Veronica stood up.

Seth nodded, his eyes quickly scanning the situation. Soft sirens grew in the background. He huffed as he spoke, "We didn't bring a bomb dude."

Veronica looked back at the screen, as did Logan - three minutes left.

"Veronica, please," Logan found his voice again. "Just take the print and go."

She blinked at him for a second, before vehemently shaking her head.

In one motion, she slipped out a pocket knife, ran behind him, and sliced off his knots.

"If I go, we go together." She tried to heave him up.

He gripped her arm, his fingers numb and sore. "No, this thing can't move past that door without killing all of us. Please, for the both of us - just go."

She looked up at him, resolve in her face. He knew the only way to melt it.

Careful to avoid the contraption on his chest, he leaned forward and captured her lips in a strong, passionate kiss. For a fleeting second, all felt right with the world. But things weren't right, and he pulled back, sudden fear and tenderness burning in his throat. He pressed her hands between his raw ones. "Please, for us."

With a bite of her lip, Veronica nodded. She swiped out a packet, tore it open, and pulled out a soft, blue sheet that shimmered even under the weak light. With trained precision, she pressed the material over the panel. When she lifted it off, a short gasp escaped her.

Logan looked down - 30 seconds sure flew fast.

"Seth, take this and go."

_She said what?_

Logan looked up to see Seth taking the re-sealed packet handed him. The two men shared a glance before the agent shook his head.

"Seth, go!"

She was in full command mode, apparently.

"Agent Mars - "

"I'll stay. Just go."

A short beep alerted everyone present to the 2-minute mark.

Still shaking his head, Seth patted Veronica's shoulder - and backed out towards the door.

Alone again, Logan re-focused on Veronica's face. Why was she still here?

"Veronica, please. You don't have to be a hero in this. I love you, sweetie. Please - don't do this." His hands wandered across her face as he spoke.

The emotions that reflected back to him in her eyes almost floored him. If only circumstances were - different.

The same eyes also communicated a determination he knew he could never even try to thwart.

"Look, Logan." Her voice stayed a sturdy, incorrigible calm. "I don't believe in letting anyone else sweep into my life and be my hero - much less a martyr. So if you think you're going to sacrifice your life to save your damsel in distress, think again; you've got the wrong damsel. This one would rather die with you than live with your life on her conscience."

 


	13. A Matter of Time

"So if you think you're going to sacrifice your life to save your damsel in distress, think again; you've got the wrong damsel. This one would rather die with you than live with your life on her conscience."

She finished her dramatic line with a flourish, the hands clutching his biceps demanding - begging - him to let her stay. She had gotten him into this; she would get him out.

"Agent Mars, fire dept's here. Try to keep yourselves as far away from explosion as possible." Seth's suggestion flew over the line.

Veronica nodded instinctively, her eyes running all over the contraption on Logan's chest. She was no bomb expert, but there was one thing she knew the little knife in her vest pocket could do.

"Veronica - " Logan pressed a hand to her cheek.

She relished his touch - but not now.

"Later, honeybun." She nudged his hand away with a kiss. With a quick spin, she slid behind him, her hand relentlessly slashing away at the strong knots. If they couldn't leave the building without the bomb, then they'll leave with the bomb in the building.

"Veronica, we might not  _have_  a later." For a moment, the sweet confidence of his voice hinted at desperation. Logan dropped his head to the screen and sighed.

_Every second counts. Every second counts._

She gripped the ropes with her left hand, furiously slicing with the blade in her right. "Yes, we will, Logan; and we'll have a lot more later to come."

"Veronica - "

"We will. So stop talking!" She couldn't help the sniffle that escaped her. She had lost enough, risked enough, paid enough - this couldn't be how things ended.

Veronica gasped as two ropes suddenly gave way.

_Maybe this would actually -_

A sharp digital beep sped up the countdown.

_One minute._

Logan sighed audibly. Eyes misty and hands fiercely at work, Veronica shuddered. She couldn't let him down, not now.

"Logan, please. Hang on. We'll get this off," she choked. "The world's taken Lilly, Duncan, my mom, your mom - the list goes on. It almost took my dad, Logan. It can't take you too. It won't take you. I won't let it."

Tears escaped her eyes as another thick knot gave way.

Logan's hand reached behind him and rested gently on her elbow. She leaned forward to brush a kiss on the back of his neck, her blade hacking away.

"I love you, Veronica."

_And I love you, Lo._

But she couldn't say it - not with the waterfalls down her cheeks, not with the lump choking her throat. She loved him; with every fiber of her being, she did. But sentimental confessions were the farthest thing from her mind right now. Love - it wasn't something that came her way very often; and she would fight to her last breath to keep every chance that it does.

A small beep had both of them catching their breath.

"Lo?"

"30 seconds."

"I got this. We'll get out of here."

"I know." The calm tone of his voice almost had her fooled.

Two more ropes fell through. A dozen remained, mostly around his shoulders and neck. Veronica's eyes zeroed in on the large knot behind his ribs.

She struggled to keep her breathing steady.

_If I could only get that one -_

Her knife attacked with renewed ferocity.

"Veronica?"

"Yeah?" She panted.

"Thanks for sharing the past weeks with me."

It took all her willpower to not fall on the floor sobbing. "Sure."

A small beep and vibration was followed by another, and another.

"Ten sec - "

She cut him off with a shove as she ripped off the heavy piece of devilry. Ever quick to react, he twisted down to peel it off with her.

As the last few seconds chimed, she hurled the bomb - wires and all - far into the darkness as they turned, hand in hand, and made a dash for the door. Two steps in, the loudest blast she had ever heard boomed throughout the empty building.

They lurched forward, straight on top of a wooden crate - the splintering wood crumbling below them as they hit the floor with Logan's arms protectively wound around her tiny body. Veronica closed her eyes, bracing for the warmth and unconsciousness that was sure to follow, Logan's labored breathing matching her own.

_One Mississippi, Two Mississippi..._

"Agent Mars?"

The buzz in her ear forced her eyes open.

_Wait, what?_

Careful not to elbow Logan, she twisted her body around to face him. The wide eyes that met hers expressed as much bewilderment as relief. With two swift, small nods of acknowledgment, they helped each other up to their feet, their hands brushing away the prickly wood pieces. In the vacuum-like emptiness of removed suspense, they slid their hands together and glanced at the direction of the discarded bomb.

No fire, no dust, no sparks, and no embers - nothing but a thin line of slender smoke weaved up from the pile of godforsaken metal.

Instinctively, she shifted towards the heap; but a strong grip on her upper arm pulled her back. She turned. She blinked.

"Veronica," he whispered, his voice deep, glad, husky. Two dark brown eyes bore into her soul.

_Priorities, girl._

Without a second thought, she jumped - her arms and legs wrapping despairingly around his neck and torso. He stepped back at the contact but balanced them upright. And with her face buried on his shoulder and his lips against her hair - she cried.

And all the fear, the danger, and the possibility of losing him forever - all the things that should've overtaken her less than a minute ago - now crashed together and buried her into an emotional abyss of sorrow and relief.

"Shhh, it's okay," he hushed her gently, his free hand rubbing up and down her back. "It's okay. We're okay. You got us out, bobcat."

She nodded against his shoulder, knowing he'd understand.

But did he?

Did he truly understand that she could never live another day without him - that an existence on earth apart from him would be a life she'd nevermore accept? Did he really know that he was so irreversibly branded into her heart that she could never ever give it fully to another?

She never knew until now.

Guess he couldn't know.

_Not unless I tell him._

"I love you." Her muffled words against his collar were interlaced with tears of self-revelation. She pressed a soft kiss to the side of his neck. The hitch in his breath sounded deeper than any other time she'd heard.

Leaning back just far enough not to fall, she pulled back to look him in the face, her hands bracing his neck. She pressed their foreheads together.

"I love you, Lo."

Who knew three simple words could unlock such a floodgate of intimacy?

It wasn't the intellectual rapport they'd always shared. It wasn't the physical intimacy they'd always excelled at. It was a closeness of an entirely different kind.

It was the type of emotion that stripped away any armors you've donned over your heart, laying it naked and vulnerable - and beautiful in all its glory. And it was something she wanted to share with no one but him.

As the echoes of her words still lingered in the air, their mouths attached in a fierce, magnetic kiss. Their lips - wet, hot, and desperate - consumed each other's with passionate abandon. His hands on her neck and her thigh crushed her body against his own. Her own hands climbed all over his shoulders, his neck, his hair - claiming him for herself.

Minutes flew by in their scorching embrace as he gently lowered her to the floor, their mouths still hungrily devouring each other's.

And when their lips finally parted, both breathless in their ardor, their arms stayed firmly wrapped around each other in a resolute embrace.

A flurry of footsteps alerted them to step gently away. Her hand in his, they turned to face the group of agents and firemen now pouring into the building. With professional proficiency, they spread out and stationed themselves, searching each corner. She gripped Logan's hand just a tad tighter.

Seth was first to approach.

"Mr. Lester, Miss Mayfield," he nodded to each as he spoke. "I'm Seth Perkins, federal agent. We heard the explosion outside and had to analyze the safety situation. Are you two alright?"

Logan nodded stiffly; she reacted in kind.

"Medical personnel outside will check you two right up. We'll let you rest, and local authorities will be paying a visit to your homes - or home - tomorrow. We hope you can provide all the information you can to help track down your attackers."

The couple nodded again.

_Guess we'll be having lots of coffee tonight._

Coordination was key, and it was nice of Seth to buy them time. But knowing he was playing it to undermine the local cops didn't make the situation any less awkward.

"Agent Perkins!" A loud voice echoed from the deserted pile of wires and shells.

All three individuals turned. Slowly, Veronica moved towards the forensic officer, Seth and Logan shadowing her. They stopped a few feet away.

"Check this out, sir." With a flick of the stick in his hand, the officer nudged away the top part of the broken mechanism. It fell aside with ease.

Veronica inhaled sharply.

On a sheet of smooth, varnished wood - something clearly not designed to withstand an explosion - three simple words shrieked in blood: "LEAVE THIS ALONE."

In a whirlwind of cognition, the events of the day snapped into place like pieces of a gigantic jigsaw puzzle. Her guts rolled and twisted into a million knots. The handkerchief on the table, the ease of the pursuit, the telltale vehicle parked so conveniently at the correct warehouse, and the bomb that was never meant to harm - it was all a sick, menacing plot.

It wasn't a murder attempt; it was a taunt.

It wasn't a message to Logan; it was personalized threat signed, sealed, and delivered to her.

Was Elise ever going to hurt him? Was Chris - with all his gentlemanly goodness - just a pawn in their schemes? Would there have been an alternate result if she hadn't arrived in time? She didn't know.

For once, she didn't want to know.

She only knew all too clearly that there had been a show of cards - and her enemy's hand was a royal flush. And for once, she was incapacitated from retaliating. Because as long as she was at odds with them, they knew exactly what to do to make her stop.

And it wasn't something she could afford.

* * *

"You think we did enough?" His polished shoes, propped far from his smirking face, almost sparkled under the intense cabin lights. He breathed in the sugary scent of his German Riesling.

"Really, sweetheart. Your doubt wounds me," her chilling baritone responded across the aisle. "We just watched the playback. Need we any other reminder of Little Miss Blondie's heart breaking?"

Kurt laughed; she'd always been the calmer one. He clinked his glass with hers. "It was a little dramatic for my taste, but it should do. Cheers, my beautiful sister, for a most superb job."

The low hum of the plane engine reverberated throughout the luxurious tube as the siblings exchanged their toasts.

"Would you be lonely in Marstrand?" He voiced casually.

"Only after I've exhausted the male population."

"Echolls was barely enough, I see."

Elise's eye-roll didn't escape his peripheral vision. "Seriously, Kurt, you can't still be complaining about that little kiss."

"He  _did_  get your fingerprint."

"And what if he did?" Her words challenged him back. "The FBI would have nothing on me while I party away to oblivion in Sweden."

"And break your lover's heart?" He couldn't resist that one.

"It's about time, I'd say. I was getting quite sick of him, honestly - always so smitten and pathetic." She threw back her red curls on the reclined leather seat. "We'll pay him handsomely enough when he's old and crippled."

"And  _that_  is why I love you. What better way to multiply the family fortune than with the spurned lovers who fall helpless at your charms?"

She smirked. "As long as someone keeps an eye on them."

"Of course." He took another sip. "Always."

* * *

His fingers wound tightly around her small, white hand as the cop car pulled out of the parking lot.

_She said she loves me. She loves me!_

Logan exhaled, fighting to re-establish his heartbeat. As relieving as their escape from death had been, and as much smug satisfaction as Seth's whispered concession of his innocence had given him - nothing had thrilled him more that day than the chance to hear those words from her.

No more acquiescent nod or half-hearted "yeah" - she had actually told him the real thing. And knowing that she'd said so after the bomb had supposedly exploded only made it mean so much more.

"Ready to go home?" He pressed a kiss to the back of her hand.

Her eyes, rimmed with dark circles, smiled back at him. "Yeah, of course."

Logan smiled. She had insisted on letting the cops drive them home instead of taking the helicopter, citing airsickness from her earlier trip. And with Chris now out of their hair, he couldn't wait to arrive home to have her all to himself.

"Thanks for coming to find me," he said softly.

"Of course, always," she responded with a tired smile.

Fatigued from the after-effects of adrenaline, they fell to silent hand-holding for the rest of the trip - his lips occasionally brushing against her knuckles. Her head leaned back on his shoulder, where he freely sniffed her blond locks.

_Still smells like promises._

Logan couldn't help smile at her demure silence. Given the usual ball of dynamite she was, a shy and feminine Veronica was quite a welcome change in his arms.

He never let go of her as they stepped out from the car, mechanically receiving instructions about tomorrow's questioning. And he pulled her close against him as they slipped through the glass doors and shot up the elevator. When he slipped his hands off her for a moment to unlock the front door, she quietly stepped into his flat as he followed behind.

_Alone at last._

Under the soft, warm lights peeping out from the false ceiling, Logan leaned forward and propped his chin above her head, his arms snaking around her waist. Her pressed a soft kiss on her crown. "You okay?"

She nodded almost imperceptibly as he held her close.

A few seconds later, she shifted around to face him.

He lifted an eyebrow.

Her eyes, strange in their blankness of expression, gazed back at his.

"Is something wrong?" He tried to sound soothing. It had been a truly long night.

She shook her head slowly, almost hesitantly.

"Veronica?"

_Where has she gone?_

Before he could speak again, she sighed audibly and pressed a kiss to his lips.

He responded in kind, careful to be more tender than possessive.

She let go and stepped back. "I'll see you in the morning."

She brushed passed him and headed straight to the door.


	14. Without You

"Veronica, wait!"

She forced down the clot in her throat.

_Oh how do you keep a wave upon the sand?_

She halted two steps from the door, uncertain whether or not to move on. She owed him an explanation; she knew that much. But oftentimes, actions were easier than words.

She resisted minimally as his hand landed on her shoulder and turned her around. Her eyes stared blankly at his torso.

"Veronica, what's wrong?" His fingers traced her cheek as softly as his voice did the air.

She swallowed hard.

_I'm afraid of losing you forever?_

"It's nothing, Logan." She looked up with a half-hearted smile. "I guess, after all the adrenaline, I just needed some space?"

"You can have space here," he responded instantly. "I can take the couch if you don't feel comfortable being with me in the room."

She shook her head. "It's not that, Lo."

"Then what is it?"

_The boy can be persistent._

Veronica sighed. She fought to keep her voice nonchalant. "You just need to get to the bottom of things, huh?"

Logan almost chuckled. "You're one to talk, Miss Agent Mars."

A smidgen of the tension in her shoulders fell away.

_Okay, Veronica, you can do this._

With affected calm, she walked slowly to the loveseat, Logan a mere step behind. When she stationed herself in the middle, he leaned against the armrest.

She took a long, deep breath.

"I think I'm going to need to stay away for a while."

She didn't have to turn to feel his muscles tense.

"I just need - need to have some space to solve the case, you know? Our relationship, nice as it's been," she paused, "it's becoming somewhat of a distraction."

He remained still. She hesitated.

_Quiet means danger._

"And I just need - well, I need to steer clear for a while, you know?" She attempted again.

After three agonizing, silent seconds, she lifted her face towards him.

Her vision instantly blurred.

On the shoulders where his head had always perched with cocky confidence, his face hung against his slouching form. His fingers, still red and raw from the ropes, gripped forcefully together - shuddering. His eyebrows knitted; his eyes sunk back. Beside the plush rug, his feet laid open and limp.

_And this is why I run - so I don't have to see the consequences._

"Logan," she called softly as her hand grazed his back.

He pulled away from her touch - and her heart.

"Logan, please - "

"It's okay, Veronica." His words were barely a whisper. "You don't have to explain."

He stood up and paced to the bar that separated the living room from the kitchenette, leaving more distance between them. Not seeing his face, she almost missed his next sentence. "I knew it was too good to last."

_Wait, what?_

A rush of anger surged through her veins as she took to her feet. She fought to keep her voice still. "What do you mean, Logan?"

His back still against her, he shrugged.

"What do you mean it was too good to last?" Her voice began to intensify.

He turned around then, his expression still full of resignation. He shook his head without looking at her. "We meet again, we hook up, we fight, we reconcile, I almost get killed by murderers! You tell me you love me" - his voice caught for a split second - "and then you want to leave?"

"Look, I have my reasons - "

"Yes, you always do!" His voice shot out from his forlorn frame like an angry geiser. "You always have reasons that make it perfectly reasonable for you to make me the happiest man alive only to turn around and dash out of my life forever."

"I'm not leaving forever, Logan," she stepped firmly as she spoke. "This is temporary."

"Oh yeah?" His voice carried more hurt than challenge. "Temporary, you say. Like one year temporary, four months temporary, or seven years temporary, Veronica?"

"It's not like that!"

"Then tell me what it's like," his voice finally broke. He sighed as he leaned back against the bar. "Tell me what you really, actually mean about 'having some space for a while' because I have no freakin' idea what you mean."

The churning of the AC sounded louder than the screeching Los Angeles streets below.

She blinked, refusing to relent to her tears. He did just the same.

When she spoke again, her voice was strangely detached. "What do you think I meant, Logan?"

The bloodshot eyes that mets hers almost melted her right then and there.

He licked his lips before speaking, "I know better than to come between you and your job, Veronica. I know that if it comes to choosing between me or the FBI, the bureau always wins. I've made my peace with that."

_But I haven't made mine._

She nodded softly for him to keep going.

"Down to the last minute of that ticking time bomb, I was trying to help you with your case," he continued. "Cuz if someone had to be in danger for this case to be solved, then I'd rather it be me. Honestly? I know I can't expect a girl - a woman - as tenacious as you to shrink back from danger altogether. You wouldn't be you if you did. But could there ever be a place where fire, passion, and thirst for justice don't have to come with gunshots, villains, and the fear of losing you every single hour?"

She looked down.

"Exactly," he concluded, his voice hollow. "And if I can't let you stop going after these people, then the least I could do is help, you know? At least we'll be in it together. I can't have you walk away now and face all those villains alone."

The flood of anger in her blood had long since melted into a deep warmth. Veronica sighed. "And that's why I have to go away, Logan."

His furrowed brow asked his question for him.

Tenderly, she stepped in front of him and took his hands in hers. She rubbed her thumbs over the bruises on his wrists. "That bomb, Logan? It wasn't meant to put you in danger. It was a threat to me. They're trying to tell me that if I try to do anything against them again, they'll take away the one thing I can't afford to lose."

She looked him straight in the eye. "You."

She spoke before he could. "I love you, Logan. I do. And that's why I can't put you in harm's way."

"And you?"

"I'll be okay. They're not threatening me." She placed a hand softly on his chest. "This is my job. I owe it to Tanya and Ashley and Lucia to find their killer. I can't step away from this."

"Then let me step in." He hooked his hands on her waist.

"But I can't." Her eyes brimmed again. "Have you forgotten what happened tonight? You could get seriously hurt."

With a soft breath, he delicately presses his forehead down against hers. "Well, at least that makes two of us."

_Two of us?_

And at that single moment, she came to understand what life had truly been for the men in her life. Any man who'd truly loved Veronica Mars had always lived an unsettling life - whether his name was Keith Mars or Logan Echolls. And maybe that's why pinged phones and hired bodyguards had become their chosen expression of love more than puffy pink ponies had ever been. It wasn't their fault as much as their need to love her as who she truly was.

A small nudge from Logan brought her back to the present. She looked up at his quirked eyebrow. He needed assurance; he always did. But this time around, she finally knew why.

"I guess so, huh?" she whispered back, a soft smile on her lips, as she pulled them against his.

* * *

"Mmm, now this is lovely," Logan hummed at the soft, wet kisses trailing down his neck and down his chest. His eyes remained closed against the sun, his face leaning back on his forearms. He fought the smile that tugged at the edges of his lips, resolving to keep his cool. "Kiss me any lower and you'll be paying for your actions, Madame Mars."

The direction of her laugh indicated just how near his swimming trunks her face currently was. His blood - and his cock - tingled at the thought.

"What if that's exactly what I wanted you to do?" Her voice came with a playful challenge.

_That's it. You asked for it._

In one swift maneuver, he pulled up from the beach towel, grabbed the pixie blond straddling him, and tumbled them over till he was pinning her down on the sand. He gave himself a second to take in her smiling face, flush against the sprawling locks of silky blond hair.

_I'm a goner._

"In that case, I've always been helpless against your manipulations." He stated matter-of-factly before attacking her mouth and face with big, sloppy kisses.

She squirmed and giggled, her movements almost pulling her bikini askew. "Ew, Logan, you're not a dog!"

"Maybe not." He kissed down her neck to her shoulder, nudging her straps with the tip of his nose. "But I can sure be a beast when I want to be."

He stopped to waggle his eyebrows at her.

The deep smile she returned to him was the best reaction he could've ever wanted.

_She's happy. She's happy with me._

With renewed tenderness, he pressed his lips gently against hers. She responded in kind. Slowly, softly, their kisses deepened; and firmly, soundly, they rolled on to their sides while their hands explored each other. Skin-on-skin, their bodies tangled in a passionate, possessive embrace.

Within minutes, her fingers had wandered under his waistband, and his were tugging at the string knot behind her back.

"Logan, wait," she gasped against his lips, one hand flying back to hold his wrist. She smiled as she panted. "Exclusive beach doesn't mean private beach. And given how nice of Stone it was to give me this day off from both my jobs, I don't think he'd appreciate a nude photo scandal."

Still catching his own breath, Logan nodded and laid back down on his back. Veronica snuggled up and placed her head on his empty chest, her hands toying with his happy trail.

"Ever the tease, bobcat," he whispered with a smile and a kiss on her scalp, his arms winding around her.

She turned to look at him, eyes shining. "I'll reward you for your patience tonight, okay? Promise."

Logan smiled. "You better."

For a few, precious moments, the lovers closed their eyes and enjoyed the scent and whispers of the Californian ocean. Over the years, they've had times of heart-wrenching sorrow and scores of levitating joy. But moments of peace? Those had been few and far between. He treasured every one.

Logan ran his hand softly across her lower back, smiling at how her skin shimmered in the sunset. "Are you worried?"

She answered without looking up. "A little."

"We'll be okay, Veronica. They're far away and can't do anything to us anymore."

He felt her nod against his chest. He held her tighter.

"We'll be getting the fingerprint results today. It took a while to reconstruct with all the dust at the scene," she continued quietly, seemingly almost to herself. "Once we match the print, we'll have the warrant within 24 hours."

"And by then, even if they're abroad, Interpol can get them, right?" He sat up slowly as he spoke, bringing her up with him. He pulled up her chin to face him as she gave a small nod.

He sprawled his fingers on both sides of her face and pulled her close. "They can't hurt us anymore, okay?"

She blinked an unnatural number of times before nodding. He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead before she curled herself around his chest again.

"It's just that - I just feel that those girls - they shouldn't have been hurt either." Her words were barely audible.

_Of course she's thinking about them._

"It's not your fault, babe. And you've done everything you could. You've found their killer. And you're going to give them the punishment they deserve."

The nod against his chest felt a tad more certain than the ones that came before.

"Hey man, thought you were home sick." A deep voice called their way across the fast-dimming beach.

The lovers started, quickly untangling themselves from each other.

_Who would -_

"Oh, hey, Connor," Logan found his voice first, turning to the approaching figure. "Didn't know you swung by too."

"Yeah." The actor reached behind him with a relaxed scratch. "Checked in earlier today. Got a midwest cousin in town who wanted 'to see the beauty of Los Angeles.'"

Logan laughed with his friend.

_Please don't notice -_

"You've got company too, huh?" Connor cocked his head at Veronica's direction.

As nonchalantly as he could, he pulled Veronica close against him, allowing her to hide her face against his chest. "You know Shannon, right? Works at The Marines?"

Connor flashed a smile with a wink. "Oh yeah, of course. You were smitten from the first day."

_Actually, yes - since I was twelve._

"Anyway, I'll let you guys chill, okay? I'll see you around, man," Connor interrupted his thoughts. The two men grabbed a quick handshake before the actor backed away.

Once he had gained a few yards, Veronica visibly relaxed; Logan felt his own lungs let go. They started to face each other when a sharp beep penetrated the silent beach. Veronica instantly dove for the beach bag.

He eyed her warily as she fished out her pager and deftly cleared the code. The sudden stiffness of her body made him dread what was sure to come next.

She looked up; he gazed back.

Her words were soft as soft could be. "The fingerprints don't match. It wasn't her."

Before he could react, two sharp, loud ringtones echoed on the beach. Logan jumped for his own cellphone.

"Hello?"

"Hello?"

With his phone pressed against his ear, he glanced towards Connor's image in the distance - doing the exact same thing. The words he heard next chilled him to the bones.

Veronica's hand on his wrist forced the words out of his mouth. "They found another victim" - he gulped - "she jumped off the Washington Boulevard Bridge."


	15. Too Close to Home

Logan exhaled at the feel of her fingers on top of his.

He pried his eyes from the windshield for a moment to shoot her an I-know-this-sucks look. She nodded lightly in response.

_Why is this still not over?_

The wheels screeched at a sharp turn. The nauseating L.A. rush hour cacophony of lights swirled around them in a blur. His hands gripped the steering wheel, willing the traffic to loosen up.

_Why? Why?_

At the back of his mind, he had known fairly certainly that a bloody warning to "leave this alone" could never be followed with peace. But for a splitting moment next to the calming waves tonight, he had allowed himself to be fooled.

The radio announcer, his voice mostly drowned out by the groans of a thousand car engines, mumbled something about an abandoned red convertible last seen at The Marines being found on Washington Boulevard Bridge. Since there had been several eyewitnesses, the body had been hunted for and located quickly - but not before the GHB and the waters took the young woman's life.

Logan shook his head, refusing to indulge in the haunting memories.

_Red convertible, woman jumping off a busy city bridge -_

No, he wasn't going to wallow in his orphaned state now. He couldn't - not when the killer was on the loose.

Sure, the act appeared suicidal enough, but there was too little room for doubt. The murderers were still in business.

_But who could have done it?_

He stepped on the gas pedal.

According to records, the only guests at The Marines for all three murders had been himself, Connor Larkin, Phil Morris, and Elise Donavan. Tonight's act ruled Larkin out of the picture; and unless Veronica's information about Elise flying to Europe had been inaccurate, the heiress could also be dismissed. That leaves - Morris?

Logan breathed deep, unable to imagine his all-American business partner - the man who helped Veronica "save" him - to be a cold-blooded killer. He'd have to check those surveillance records one more time.

Police sirens rang loud all around them as they pulled into the back of The Marines. The two practically jumped out of the convertible.

"He's here!" Morris's familiar voice showed him where to look. Logan approached the two officers standing with his partner, his stomach churning.

"Excuse me, miss. You have to stay here."

Logan looked over his shoulder. "She's with me; let her in."

He reached out a hand for her to take before pulling her into their 5-person circle.

Wordlessly, the taller cop shifted a photo to the top of the papers in his gloved hands. Logan inhaled sharply at the distorted image. The slim blond woman, probably on the younger side of twenty, looked at least forty from the bloated skin all around her wrinkled face. Her eyes flashed white; her hair stuck out in a mangled mess as horrifying as Medusa's.

"Do either of you recognize this woman?"

* * *

_Shake your head, Veronica. You're just a waitress here._

Sure, Seth had messaged her along the way about Willow Johnson - rumored illegitimate child of actor Daniel Roberts and his secretary. And yes, she had jumped off the bridge all by herself. But someone had to have put that disorienting GHB on her, and that someone was responsible for her untimely death.

_And that someone has to pay._

"Let us know if anything else suspicious turns up, okay?" The cop's clipped voice cut through her consciousness.

In her peripheral vision, she saw the policemen and owners exchanging handshakes. She stayed close to Logan, faithfully playing the mistress angle, while her mind shifted to overdrive.

_After going through their financial records, we have enough evidence proving the already-affluent Donavans to have an illegal source of income. But if Mister and Miss Druglord are in Europe...who's dealing out the good stuff?_

She stepped aside to let the policemen through. Still deep in thought, she draped her arm on Logan's in a trance. He let her, but he continued his conversation with Morris.

_Morris - Mr. Phil Morris - there were two people who helped me find Logan in the warehouse. Chris was cleared thoroughly after a background check. But could it be -_

Her vision snapped up to the man in front of her. His face appeared reasonably shaken as he discussed the string of murders with his business partner. Veronica narrowed her eyes as she scanned his appearance, and then his demeanor.

Was that an unnatural twitch of his hand?

_It's now or never._

"Mr. Morris - "

"Shannon, thank God you're here!"

Veronica spun around at the hostess's voice.

The wispy former model grabbed her by the shoulders. "Do you have your uniform? We need you to take a shift right now. Sara's gone."

"Gone?" A thousand possibilities - all pessimistic - presented themselves in Veronica's mind about her one and only friend on the job.

"Yeah, come on in. She just got news an hour ago. Her mom just died."

* * *

_Welcome to the busiest day-off ever._

Veronica threaded the napkin briefly inside each glass before placing them in line on the tray. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched the five owners make their way into the Red Room across three intervals. Their brows were tight, their shoulders slumped, and their gait heavy. It was not a good night for anyone in The Marines.

Weaving her way into the crowd, tray of perfectly pink cocktails on hand, Veronica tiptoed and ducked as each cluster of customers required. Would she rather be serving drinks to entitled young hedonists or cracking her gun against the literal lady killer on the loose? The answer was easy - but when had it been about what she preferred?

An agent's life was never about being the hero; she learned that long ago. It was really just about being at the right place at the right time - and remembering everything from that moment.

Determined to make the most of the situation, Veronica scanned every face in the crowd. Even if the Donavans were the real masterminds behind the irresponsible way The Marines had been turned into a drug destination, they must have someone running the streets. They were too wise to get their own hands dirty.

The Red Room re-emerged into her sight at the next turn, her tray almost empty. Was the real culprit in there?

"Oh! I'm sorry!" A female voice cried at the contact. Veronica instinctively saved the remaining two glasses with a quick swoop. She turned around to the figure emerging from the staff restroom.

"Sara?" Her surprise was evident in her tone.

The beautiful tan on the waitress's cheeks was laced with dirty trails of tears, her face flush and her lips dry.

"Sara, what are you still doing here? Are you okay?"

Veronica placed the glasses on a nearby table and slipped into the tiled space with Sara's slight form. The two ladies stepped further away from the door.

"I thought you left already." Veronica pulled out and passed a few more tissues her companion's way.

Sara nodded slowly, still heaving and sobbing. "I tried to leave the moment I heard the news. But after I changed and packed up, I" - she took a long breath - "I realized - what's the point, you know?"

_How do you tell someone that everything is okay when it's not?_

Veronica nodded slowly.

The sobbing re-commenced. "My mom's dead, Shannon. Dead! Here I am working away from home, unable to see her, trying to give her a better life in everything that I do. And what does it matter at the end of the day?"

Sara looked up, eyes bloodshot. "She's dead now. And going back to see her body won't ever bring her back."

Running a comforting hand over Sara's arm, Veronica wondered for a moment to what planet her no-nonsense colleague had disappeared. Snappy commands replaced by fountains of blubbering tears, Sara was entirely besides herself. But then again, who was she to talk about grief bringing with it a game-changing, personality-altering impact?

So when Sara flung herself into Veronica's arms, crying against the blond's shoulder, the agent didn't push her back. Suddenly, the tray of drinks and the thirsty customers didn't matter any longer. Suddenly, the case hovered like a distant pain. Here, right now, someone needed her. And Veronica would always help.

She brought a hand to gently pat Sara's brown hair. "How did she die?"

"I could've gone back to see her, Shannon. I knew she had been sick." Sara pulled back. "But the cancer got her before I did."

* * *

Logan rubbed an eye as he pushed out into the crisp California midnight air, fatigued from the interminable Red Room discussion.

No matter how many hours they'd poured over the customer list and no matter how many times they'd viewed the surveillance videos, nothing came up. Willow Johnson came, danced for several songs, drank a standard cocktail, talked with her friends, and stumbled out walking funny. The next thing they knew, her body was plunging into the Los Angeles River.

The stolen kisses on the beach felt as distant as a childhood dream.

_Should've known - one perfect day with Veronica Mars couldn't even last twenty-four hours._

He disabled the car alarm with a small flick of his fingers.

"Hey."

Logan looked up.

_Well, this is unexpected._

Perched against the driver's side of his BMW, his tiny blond girlfriend gazed back, her eyes peeking under her shaggy bangs. He sported a small smile.

_She waited. She waited for me!_

He walked forward and placed his hands on her slender waist.

"Waiting for someone to sweep you off your feet, milady?" He leaned his forehead against hers with a tired smile.

"Actually, I just needed a ride home," she whispered back with a smile and a wink. "But I was thinking of taking a turn at the wheel; after all that whiplash earlier, you know."

Logan smiled and handed her the keys with a kiss.

* * *

"And we are here because?"

Veronica blinked instead of answering.

_You've always been better at the talking, love._

She sighed. "This is where people last saw Willow Johnson."

Logan nodded. "So we were told."

"But that doesn't explain anything, does it?" She could almost laugh at herself.

Logan, his elbows perched on his generously spread knees, shook his head beside her. She looked up at the concrete bridge for a moment.

"Sara's mom died today."

"I know. Sorry you had to work on such short notice. I would've exempted you, but it would've been suspicious."

Veronica smiled. "It's okay. You did the right thing. Besides, I didn't end up working that much anyway."

"Are you telling me that my top employee was slacking off on the job today?" His voice carried a smile.

"Yup, did absolutely nothing." She stretched out her limbs and let them fall straight on the ground. "Was in the restroom most the night."

"Not with a man, I hope?"

"With a woman, actually."

That made him raise an eyebrow.

Veronica almost smiled. "I was with Sara. She was crying all night. Her mom actually died of colon cancer. And you know what?" She swallowed the lump in her throat. "The whole time I was with her, there was only one thought in my mind."

She turned to her boyfriend. "It could've just as easily been my dad."

The understanding on his face made her stomach knot up. After placing a gentle hand on her cheek, he cocked his head towards the bridge. "And that was almost exactly like my mom."

_Red convertible, pretty young woman - how could I have missed it?_

Veronica gasped as she wrapped her hands on the one he had against her face. "Logan, I'm sorry. I didn't even think about that. This - this must all be horrible for you."

He shrugged. "It's okay. I know you were pre-occupied with the case. And, well, with Sara."

"But, Logan, you're more important." She pressed a kiss into his palm. "Sure, I absolutely detest the fact that Willow Johnson has to be added to the list of victims. And I can't believe that we still haven't proven who's working for the Donavans from The Marines. But I also feel bad for Sara. And I feel bad for my dad. I feel bad for everything. I - "

He silenced her with a thumb to her lips. She looked up and sighed at the gesture.

"I'm sorry, Logan."

"It's okay." He kissed her softly on the lips. "It's not your fault."

"But I - "

"It's not your fault that you didn't notice. It's not your fault that Willow died. And it's not your fault that life is a messed up minefield of everything wrong."

In the shadows of a metropolis that never truly slept, a single tear made its way on to her shirt. "Yeah, it really is, isn't it?"

"Yup. Can't take two steps without an explosion."

"But we're in it together?"

He nodded reassuringly. "Always."

She nodded back. "I'm sorry about your mom, Logan. There's never a day when I don't feel sad about what happened."

"And I your dad, Veronica. But hey, look what my mom brought me as a parting gift." He trailed a finger down her cheek to her chin. "I'll always be grateful for that."

Her blurred vision almost kept her from seeing his sad smile.

"Come on, bobcat." He rolled himself up and held out a hand. "Let's get you home."


	16. Number Five

"You could always give her money."

"That's too impersonal." Her disapproval sounded harsher than usual in the late-night silence of the residential area.

"But it's also the most practical," he responded in kind as they turned a corner.

Veronica shrugged.

_Play nice. Don't want another overnight argument._

Taking a deep breath while slowing the car to a stop in front of the safehouse, he glanced over at the small agent to his right. "Unless you have a better idea?"

Veronica shrugged again, this time more helpless than hostile.

Sighing inaudibly, Logan unbuckled his seat belt and reached for her hand. He stroke her small, white fingers gently. "I know you just want to help Sara out."

It was Veronica's turn to sigh as he gripped her hand more tightly.

"You promise it won't come across as snobby?" Her voice had grown significantly calmer.

Logan smiled. "Of course not. It's not a birthday or anything. It's a practical way of helping her out. Giving money as a gift means that you lessen the financial burden that would otherwise have been bothering her."

Her tiny nod was a very pleasant surprise. He lifted the back of her hand for a kiss.

"Is that how you felt about my dad?"

_Is that a trick question?_

Logan furrowed his brow. "I'd be lying if I said no."

Uncertain, he glanced at her peripherally. He grasped her hand even tighter, needing some kind of connection.

She surprised him by squeezing him back.

"Thanks." She looked up with warmth in her eyes. "I guess I just never thought of money being capable of being a genuine blessing from someone else. It just always seemed like a throwaway gift to me before."

Logan nodded. "And you never got that kind of gift from me, did you?"

Veronica smiled back then. He knew even her ridiculously detailed mental database couldn't refute that one.

He leaned in for a kiss before unlocking the car. "Come on, girl. Let's tuck you in."

They walked in silence from the car to the door, each step punctuated with a squeeze or a kiss. Veronica fumbled for her keys while Logan watched bemused. Even the most coordinated agent could get tired.

Yet when she finally inserted the key through the lock, nothing turned.

And when she tried again, the door swung open on its own.

* * *

She blinked and shook her head.

She shook it again.

_Nope, definitely real._

The arm she had across Logan's back pulled him in reflexively. His arm around her shoulder did the same.

_What on earth?_

All across the living area of the small apartment, furniture and decor tumbled about in a chaotic mess. Carpets lay atop upside-down chairs. Drawers fell abandoned on the ground with their contents scattered about. Shards of glass and china gave no doubt about the current condition of any kitchenware.

One shared glance later, the couple quickly parted to scout every corner. Every visible bug had been smashed mercilessly, every electronic item unplugged. Strips of wallpaper curled helplessly on the floor. The bedroom, though locked, had been invaded and subjected to the same level of damage.

Whoever tried to mutilate the apartment had done a merciless, thorough job.

Veronica leaned over the fragments of her broken computer just as Logan appeared at her bedroom door.

"Is anything missing?" His voice mirrored the frantic expression on his face.

She shook her head. "I don't keep anything crucial here. But even if I did, the trespasser was more vandal than thief."

Logan walked over with a nod. He placed a hand on her back. "I'm sorry, Veronica."

Usually, those words triggered a calm, a sense of knowing that she was right. This time, they only served to fuel the sense of injustice already pervading her system. Whoever wanted her out of the way was stating overtly clearly that he had access to wherever she was. And no one had the right to do so.

"Don't apologize," she almost snapped, her lungs heaving. "It's not your fault."

"But it's because of me that - "

"No," She turned to face him them. Her hands flew to his shoulders, her words pouring like bullets from a machine gun. "It's not your fault that I'm investigating criminals who think they have a right to ruin and end people's lives. It's not your fault that they want to target my apartment. It's not your fault."

He looked back at her with a face half-convinced.

Veronica breathed hard. "Logan, you are doing everything you can to keep me safe. You owe nothing to this situation."

The way he pursed his lips foreshadowed the weight of his words. "There's still one more thing I could do."

She held her breath. "What?"

"Move in with me. Come over and stay. I know it's a big step, but," - he paused for breath - "it's the best way to show a united front, and the best way to keep either of us from getting worried sick."

_Move in with Logan?_

She tried to process the thought.

_To be fair, I'm really not about to let him out of my sight again. But what would Seth and Agent Stone say?_

"I know it seems like a big thing to ask," he continued. "I wasn't planning on asking you this early, even though I've wanted to. It's just that - "

"Who?"

He met her eyes. "Who? Who what?"

"Who are you asking?" Her own voice trembled ever-so-slightly. "Shannon? Or Veronica?"

She could see the smile he's unsuccessfully hiding so clearly that she herself almost mirrored the act. Who knew anyone could smile in the middle of a completely defaced apartment?

"Both?" His eyes lit with what must be hope.

Not like Shannon and Amber and whoever the current alias was could ever be separate from Veronica Mars, right? Even Agent Stone would have to agree.

_Smart boy._

"Okay."

* * *

The warm shades from the living room panels basked her form in an almost halo-like glow. Relishing the lack of detection, Logan leaned his head against the bedroom door as he observed his girlfriend sipping her hot chocolate on his couch - or rather, their couch.

_She's my girlfriend - who is sharing a home with me._

He couldn't help smile. While the reason for her moving in left much to be desired, he had honestly enjoyed their past few days together. It wasn't just the sex, though that was splendid. It was the ability to know her in little ways he had otherwise never known before.

It's about noticing how she would brush her teeth immediately before breakfast and then once again right after. It's about opening a drawer to find his underwear lined up in military uniformity while her side had silk, cotton, and spandex all tossed about in a cardboard box. It's about having someone always around to offer to scratch his back whenever she saw him rubbing against the door frame to ease that unreachable spot.

It was about being at home - together.

_If this is a dream, I'd rather die in my sleep.  
_

Logan glanced at his watch. It also meant waking up at 3 a.m. for a leak, coming back to an empty bed, and finding your girlfriend staring blankly on the couch with a mug of steamy cacao giving her a brown mustache.

A quick clearing of his throat had her jump and turn her head.

"You okay?" He walked over slowly, the edges of his long pajama pants tickling the plush rug. She instantly snuggled against his bare torso as he sat down beside her.

She nodded absent-mindedly, the silk robe he'd gotten her dangling loosely on her shoulders. He pressed a kiss to her forehead while his hand fondled her locks.

"Are you sure? Cuz hot chocolate sure screams 'comfort food' to me."

She scoffed, and he knew he'd gotten her.

"I need to talk to you about something," she spoke softly, her voice straight and calm.

"Yeah?" He pulled back just enough to look her in the face. "Is it about the case? Or about us?"

"The case," she responded, gaze still far away, "but it applies to you too."

_What did I do this time?_

"Okay," he prodded her on.

Veronica shifted then, extricating herself from his arms while she placed the mug on the coffee table, white china on manicured glass. She looked down but didn't push away when he took her hands in his.

"What's the update, sweetie?" he asked gently.

She looked up, eyes glassy. "I woke up just now cuz I received an e-mail from Agent Stone."

Logan nodded, listening intently.

"We don't have any proof that he's involved, but we did trace an unexplained amount of income and expenses for his family members. We'll need your help to find evidence."

"Who?"

Veronica looked at him with an almost sorry expression on her brow.

"It's one of my friends, isn't it?"

She nodded.

"Morris?"

Veronica exhaled. "Yeah. I know you guys are close - I mean, all five of you are. It's not that we're sure it's him; we just want to know where that income is coming from. But it's just that - I don't know how you'd feel about investigating a friend."

"It's not the best feeling in the world."

"Tell me about it." Her voice started to ease back to its normal lilt. "It's really hard to suspect someone you care for to have done anything genuinely wrong."

A sudden thought constricted his chest as he nodded.

"Is that how you felt about Duncan?" The words fell out of their own accord.

The way her eyes popped open indicated complete surprise. "Duncan?"

"I mean, investigating him for Lilly's murder and all." He looked away.

_Why did I have to bring him up?_

"No, Logan." Her hand on his face brought him back. "That's what I felt about you."

_Me?_

"I guess what I mean is, I know you always did love him more than - "

"No." She cut him off resolutely, and he loved her for that. "I loved him, sure, in the girliest, silliest, teenage way possible. And it's all past tense now. But you" - she kissed him softly - "are the one I've never stopped loving."

Words eluded him before she spoke again.

"And never will."

_Is Veronica Mars promising me forever?_

Logan caught his breath. Surely, such an occasion required champagne, hot kisses, and even hotter celebration sex. It was downright historic.

But somehow, the quiet domesticity of their soft-spoken conversation had him feeling rather differently. Instead of fireworks, he felt warmth; instead of symphonic swells, he heard the tender, synchronized beating of their hearts.

Silly Logan - what did he have to be jealous of?

Anxious to affirm her words, he kissed her straight on the lips, their mouths instinctively caressing each other's. When their lips parted minutes later, he made sure their foreheads didn't.

"Thank you, Veronica." His hoarse voice betrayed his emotions. "You sure about that?"

"A hundred percent," she whispered back with a smile.

They held each other for another two quiet minutes before she spoke up first, "So - are we ready to face those demons now?"

"With you? Always."

* * *

"I really need to get back to waiting tables, you know."

Giggling under his expert fingers, she knew her own protests were rather token ones.

"Sara's back. She'll take care of things. I'll rather be here taking care of you." He attacked her neck with his lips again while his fingers played her ribcage like a piano. She squirmed in guilty pleasure.

"What if they suspect something?" She squeaked between gasps, her legs wounding around him as she leaned back against the sink counter. Guess they never did outgrow stolen bathroom make-out sessions.

"Then they would be right," he concluded, his hands now commencing on the buttons on her blouse.

"Logan!"

"Veronica."

She instantly put a hand over his mouth. Her eyes widened.

He grinned with a guilty look that had suited his teenage years far better than his current adult face. "Sorry - Shannon."

"As you should be, Mr. Lester." She relaxed and grinned back.

She smooched him one more time before re-buttoning her white uniform. "Seriously, Lo, what if people walk in on me naked? What would they say?"

"That I'm pathetically smitten with the love of my life?"

_Man, he still pulls off the puppy-dog eyes._

Veronica smiled as he started to kiss up behind her ears once more. "This is highly unprofessional, Mr. Lester."

"Well, you don't say." He took the chance to bite her neck, causing her to yelp out loud.

By the look on his face at how she quickly clapped her palms over her own mouth, he was definitely highly amused.

"I can't believe you," she blurted.

"What? As if you don't like it." He quirked an eyebrow, cocky in his own assumption.

_And what do you know, he's right again._

Veronica sighed, her smile still in place. Over the past few days, her motivations for coming to The Marines had been growing increasingly blurry. Was she here for a case or for Logan? Was she here as Shannon or as Veronica? To be honest, she barely knew anymore.

Logan's hand on her chin brought her back to the present. "What thoughts dare distract my lady?"

She looked up, grateful for his confidence. They'd only been living together for a week, but she was already getting way too accustomed to sharing everything with him. "Thanks for all your help. I know getting that bit of evidence wasn't easy for you."

Logan merely nodded. "I hated to think that he could be involved, but the evidence speaks for itself. Since The Marines is his only source of income, it doesn't make sense that his daughter could be parading all those brands like a sponsored red carpet model while headed to private school. And when you got the bank records - "

"Yeah, they were quite convicting. The name Elise D. doesn't exactly elicit confidence."

Logan nodded, his eyes lowered.

"Hey." She pressed a hand to his cheek. "It'll be all over soon. Once Agent Stone gets the warrant, they'll arraign him and let this all pass, okay?"

A warmth in his eyes soon faded into sadness.

"I know it's too bad, but the law will be fair, okay?"

He nodded again. "It's not about that. It's okay."

_Then why does he still look like a kid who lost his candy?_

"He's not even here today. So I guess I won't have to see it," he stated simply.

Veronica nodded, glad to see him at least somewhat comforted.

For a silent moment, the lovers lingered in each other's arms. Their adventure would soon be over - but did they really want it to be?

A sharp knock roused both from their thoughts. Veronica quickly scrambled to the floor and straightened out her outfit; Logan shifted his own as well.

"Mr. Lester?" The faceless voice echoed through the door.

With an understanding nod, Logan headed out first, intentionally leaving a small gap at the door to allow the petite agent to eavesdrop.

"Yes, Chris?" His rich, managerial tone re-emerged.

"A local model was drugged and hit by a car one block away, sir. She was dead on the scene."

Veronica caught her breath and closed her eyes.

_No, not again - not again._

She almost didn't hear the next line.

"You might know her, sir. She went to Neptune High."

 


	17. Past, Present, Future

Madison Sinclair - how could a single name conjure the wealth of mixed emotions churning through her chest right now?

Madison Sinclair - she was an enemy, a rival, and a disgusting, entitled fool. She stole Mac's identity, Veronica's virginity, as well as all those precious lost years away from Logan.

Life would be much happier without Madison Sinclair.

Then why was she feeling so inexplicably sad when Seth informed her of the Neptunian's demise?

"Nobody deserves that," the police officer's voice cut through her thoughts, almost directly answering her internal dialogue. Veronica inhaled, her fingers clutching Logan's just a little tighter as they approached the scene of the crime.

Madison Sinclair - limp and lifeless on the ground, her face bloody and her limbs in a convoluted mess. No, that was no Madison Sinclair; that's merely a victim's body left behind.

Madison Sinclair was victim number five.

"You okay?" Logan's whisper barely registered in her ear. Her heartbeat throbbed too loud.

Veronica nodded without turning his way. He tightened their shared grip even more.

"Mr. Lester, we have reason to suspect that Miss Sinclair had been drugged before being hit by a car. The sources of the drugs, we have cause to believe, came from The Marines." The cop's voice sounded way too matter-of-fact as he walked nearer.

How could he speak this way when someone just died? Someone alive and fully capable of wrecking havoc in the world was now dead - gone forever.

"I understand," Logan replied beside her.

"Are you acquainted with the victim, sir?"

_Never knew my lungs could get this tiny._

"I knew her in high school, officer," Logan spoke with professional calm, though his palms sweated against hers. "I haven't seen her for years. She doesn't frequent The Marines."

Veronica felt her ribs snap back closer to normal. She looked up then, checking Logan's face. The sad, helpless look on his face mirrored the one in her heart.

"Do you know of anyone in The Marines who might be out to harm her, Mr. Lester?"

_Enough with the questions, people._

Logan shook his head. "I don't know about her social life, but many people from her family's financial background frequent The Marines."

"We have reason to believe this hit-and-run to be a homicide, sir. Could you please be a little more specific?"

"I don't know anything." His voice finally showed signs of fatigue. "I'll let authorities know anything else I learn in the coming days."

"You better." The cop walked away without so much as a glance.

_'You better?' Leave it to a cop to care only for results._

A pang of guilt hit her hard. As far as authorities were concerned, the FBI was the cop of cops. Was she as impersonal as that man?

She peeked one more time at Madison's body before forensics zipped up her body bag. Since when had victims stopped being people and turned into numbers?

_Since far too long ago._

"Ready to go?" A large hand pulled her in by the shoulder, her lover's familiar tone by her side.

"No," she spoke softly, "but I'll never be until we catch that man."

* * *

The warm yellow lights, usually ambient and romantic, now made the living room to feel warmer and tighter than ever. He gently placed the mug of hot chocolate on the table, now an almost nightly routine, before leaning against the white sofa. Head lowered, he turned to the side to take her in.

If he hadn't known better, she'd have passed for a statue.

Logan sighed.

_How do you start the worst conversation of your life?_

"I'm sorry," he whispered softly, his face turned towards her still figure on the couch.

She stirred ever-so-slightly, her eye lifting to meet his for a few seconds before looking down again.

_A conversation needs two people, Veronica._

"Veronica," he spoke louder this time, "I'm so sorry about all of this. I was supposed to protect you, and yet I've only allowed things to hurt you even more."

She kept her blank gaze with no whatsoever sign of comprehension.

"I'm sorry about Madison. I - I should've told you that earlier. I could barely say her name all these years because the very thought that I had hurt you with what I did with - "

"Don't."

It only ever took one word from her.

He glanced at her with a quick swipe of the lips with his tongue.

"Don't what, Ronnie?"

She continued to stare ahead.

_Am I hearing things now?_

"Veronica, I'm - "

"You don't have to be," she cut him off then as she finally turned towards him, the confusion in her eyes mismatched with the certainty in her tone. "There's nothing you have to be sorry about, Logan."

"But - "

"I'm not angry at you," she stated simply.

_Okay - so now what?_

"What's wrong?" He slid down to the couch beside her. She shifted near enough for him to venture a hand on her back. "If there's anything I could do to make this better - "

"There isn't." The two tears that slid down her face caught him by surprise. "There isn't. There isn't. That's the problem."

His hand moved up and down her back, his own eyes misting at her sobs.

"Madison" - Veronica breathed heavy - "she never was and never will be any of my favorite people in the world."

Logan nodded, his 'sorry' furrowed into his brow.

"But still," she gasped before continuing, "still, I didn't want her dead!"

The eyes that locked on his mixed sadness with guilt with bewilderment. He reached out to pull her closer.

"I'm sorry, Veronica," he mumbled into her hair as a few of his own tears joined hers.

Madison was no comfort of a human being. In fact, for most of her life, she was pure venom. But when comes the day of judgment, who were they to say she deserved it more than anybody else?

"Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair, her sister Lauren - " she started listing the family members, "how would they feel? What have they done to deserve this?"

"Nothing, bobcat, nothing," his voice almost cracked. "Nobody deserves to be killed so selfishly. No one deserves to be hurt by what they didn't do."

He pulled back to look her in the face. "I'm sorry I ever hurt you the way I did, Veronica. I should've been more responsible with my actions. If even back then, I wanted to have forever with you - and I did - then I shouldn't have been so irresponsible when we were apart."

"It's okay." Heavy heaves still punctuated her words. "I know you never meant to hurt me, and I went out of the way to hurt you."

A second slipped by for the revelation to snap in.

"Piz?"

She nodded.

"Duncan?"

"A little?"

It felt wrong to be so relieved when mourning a former classmate's death. He held her a little tighter.

"Why do we keep hurting each other?" Her question pierced the air.

"Maybe there's a lives ruined quota?" He offered lamely.

She scoffed, but not unkindly. "If there is, shouldn't we have reached it by now?"

Logan lowered his eyes to gaze into hers. She looked up sadly as she ran a finger across his lips.

"You know, ever since I joined the FBI," she spoke slowly, her voice contemplative, "all I've seen is destruction and blood and gore and death - "

She closed her eyes while he pressed their foreheads together.

"And it just seems like the only way life exists," she continued, eyes still closed. "But when I met you again" - she opened her eyes - "it felt like a glimmer of hope that things can be normal again, after all."

"Normal?" He tried hard not to smile at her revelations. "Veronica Mars? Normal?"

She shrugged.

"Tanya, Ashley, Lucia, Willow, and now - Madison." She exhaled. "Seeing people's lives snuffed out like that? I don't know how much I can take of it anymore."

Logan nodded. He'd seen his share of destruction; he couldn't imagine ever doing it for a living.

"What do you plan to do?" His words were whisper-soft as he ran a tender thumb across her cheek.

She shook her head. "Well, for one, I plan to catch the killer."

He nodded and kissed her forehead.

"And then?"

_A guy can hope, right?_

"And then we'll see." She leaned into his neck. "The future's a pretty big place."

That was a better answer than he could have ever hoped for.

* * *

_And then?_

She breathed deep as she mechanically topped the tray of Blue Lagoons with candied cherries.

_And then what, Veronica?_

Ever the feminist, her dreams had always run across the lines of personal fulfilment and self-growth. The idea of settling down with one's soul mate had belonged to Meg, and Susan, and maybe even Mac at one point. Veronica Mars - she's not the usual fare.

_Then why does a happy, domestic forever with Logan appear so attractive right now?_

She shook her head to clear her fogged up brain. It must be the romantic club music. When did Veronica Mars ever want to get married?

_He didn't ask you to marry him, idiot._

No, he didn't. He didn't even ask much - just two little words, really.

Veronica hoisted up her tray.

_Then why is it so hard to think of anything else?_

Inhaling with firm deliberation, she dove into the club scene. Life had its rules. For example, days tended to go by faster, while months lingered significantly longer. Weeks, on the other hand, often strike a strange imbalance of being too short for genuine change and too long for impulsive moments.

And the weeks she's been in The Marines had turned her world upside-down.

Her emotions grew denser while her tray grew lighter. The sprawling subterranean nightclub was no playground; but looking at the gleeful faces and intoxicating smiles around her, one could barely fathom the dangers lurking in its shadows. The young women dancing in abandon all around her could easily be next in line for an untimely trip to the morgue. Hadn't Madison herself fallen prey just two days ago?

And if the Madison she so vividly remembered could die just like that - what's to stop death from whisking anyone else away?

Veronica exhaled as the last drink left her tray. She folded the piece of polished plastic against her side as she steered herself back to the bar.

Whoever was drugging these young women had an almost invisible grip on the club. If the police couldn't hold Morris more than 48 hours without further evidence, then there simply had to be someone else involved. He was the gatekeeper who failed the bribery test, but who actually wielded the weapon?

Veronica sighed as she flopped the empty tray on the counter. Her eyes scanned the crowds. Who except an owner could have that level of unquestioned access to any customer in view?

"Wait! Watch it!"

Veronica spun around, belatedly realizing how she had been backing off subconsciously. She spieled a Shannon head tilt, accompanied by a sweet apology while her colleague walked away. She giggled unconvincingly.

_What's gotten into you, Veronica?_

Her hands moved to straighten out her uniform.

"Shannon?"

She turned at the unusually calm voice. "Sara?"

"Just wanted to give you this. Sorry it took so long." The brunette passed her a small envelope. "Thanks for helping out."

"Oh, uhm, thank you," Veronica smiled as she took the item. "No problem."

One quick nod later, Sara's back watering the multitudes.

Alone behind the bar, Veronica breathed softly as she fingered the paper. The flap opened to reveal a small, neat thank you card.

"Thank you for your generosity and kindness in our family's time of need. - Sara D. Miller"

Veronica smiled. Being on assignment didn't have to be all bad. She could use a human interest case or two.

"Sara, Sara, Sara," she singsonged as she worked on her next tray. The girl sure could be everywhere; she hadn't even gotten a chance to talk to her since her return.

_Seems like she's been busy._

"Sara D. Miller, where have you been?"

_It's not like much happened when she was gone. There's probably very little to catch -_

Veronica caught her breath.

_Sara D. Miller. Sara Miller. Sara D -_

How long had it been since she'd fully checked the employee records?

Veronica whipped out her phone.

* * *

The low hum of the centralized air-conditioning lent the room its usual calm. While the Red Room had always been his refuge inside The Marines, the dark, lush furnishings of the upstairs office provided him the warmth he needed today.

_Better be ready for the storm tonight._

Logan rubbed two fingers against his right temple as a low, slow breath slipped through his lips. The way she'd nuzzled him instantly last night may have diverted them from the weight of his question; but he hadn't missed that transparent moment of surprise that had left her face an open book for all three seconds.

Logan closed his eyes.

He had been ready to settle down with Veronica far before he'd turned twenty, even allowing himself the luxury of Googling engagement ring styles in his hotel room of a home. Since they'd escaped that bomb scare last week, he's had to pinch himself each time the thought re-emerged.

He jumped at the sound of a distant whir. A soft click followed.

Logan sighed. Connor and Douglas were probably downstairs drinking the night away. Yet here he was, Logan Pathetic Echolls, losing his mind over three little seconds from last night.

_It's gonna be fine. Just ignore that it ever happened._

He'd survived the morning by letting Veronica type her reports, the drive to work by spurts of shallow small talk, and the rest of the evening since arrival by holing himself up in the office. Refusing to blurt out his mind was proving to be the hardest day of his life.

_And that's saying something._

He ran a hand over his face like an old, tired man before glancing at his computer screen.

_It would be a good idea to stop surfing now._

Almost by cue, the choppy, professional ring of his cell phone had him reaching across his desk.

"Hello?"

"Logan!" Veronica's voice, quick and breathless, rushed over the line. "I need to see you - now."

"Is everything okay?" He straightened up, free hand flying to pull down his laptop screen.

"I'm fine. It's just - " A muffled shifting sound was soon followed by a clearer, concentrated version of her voice. "I had a breakthrough. Need your help now."

"Breakthrough? What - "

"Can't tell you here. See you in the bathroom?"

"Okay, two minutes."

"Okay, just - "

A gasp, a crash, and a shuffle tumbled together into a line gone dead.

"Veronica? Veronica? Ronnie!"

Logan jumped to his feet, cell phone plastered against his face.

"Veronica!"

_What happened?_

"Wanna see your girl?"

Logan's eyes shot around to the familiar face before him. Why was Morris -

"I'll take you to her."

And everything went black.


	18. Déjà Vu

The creak of metal against metal screeched in her ears as she shook her head violently, desperately trying to clear her mind. Her eye popped open only to squint back into thin lines against the disorienting combination of dark corners and naked light bulbs. Every breath hurt.

"Good morning, sunshine. Or, should I say, goodnight."

Veronica, ready to breathe fire, zoomed in at the slender brunette standing a few yards away.

_You don't mess with Veronica Mars._

She lunged forward instantly, but was suddenly forced back by a sharp cry behind her.

A quick turn behind her shoulder sent a blunt pain against her neck. Her eyes trailed the thick rope at her throat to the knots behind her back - knots that involved her arms, Logan's arms, and another trail up against his neck.

She bit her lip.

"Told you to stay away,  _Veronica_. You wouldn't listen."

Veronica's face snapped back towards her captor. Her voice dipped into a low growl. "Sara  _Donavan_ Miller. I should've known."

The smirk on Sara's face deleted all doubt that she and Elise could be related.

_How on earth did I miss that?_

After all, who had more unlimited access to elusive Hollywood royalty than the food service force she herself had joined?

A cough behind her hit the air simultaneously with Sara's next taunt. "Not so smart now, are we?"

Veronica narrowed her eyes. "I don't remember claiming to be."

"Oh, but you sure acted like you thought so, Little Miss Wide-eyed Wonder. Did you seriously believe you fooled anyone with your ditzy charade?"

The retaliation on the tip of her tongue didn't make it through her lips.

_Never agitate your captor._

"Ronnie" - he coughed through his words - "you okay?"

Veronica peeked behind at her now-conscious boyfriend. The rasp in his voice matched her own. He must've been drugged too.

"We will be," she whispered back.

_Because no one messes with Veronica -_

"You sound quite confident,  _Shannon_." There was little sugar-coating for the sarcasm in her voice.

"And why shouldn't I be?"

Their eyes met again.

_Two can play at this game._

Veronica toyed with the knots around her wrists. This one was way too -

_Argh!_

She bit her lip to hide the cry of pain she'd almost betrayed. She turned back carefully for another look. There was never going to be any fast unknotting going on without one of their throats getting skinned.

"Not so cocky now, are we?"

_She's pushing you; stay put._

"A timely realization, Agent Mars, cuz you hear that?" Sara lifted an index finger in the air. Sporadic sounds of splashing liquid drew near. " _That's_ the sound of your funeral pyre."

The pungent scent of gasoline assaulted Veronica's senses. She squelched every desire to empty her stomach.

"You get your death and cremation on the same day!" Sara's voice - usually calm and succint - sounded entirely too menacing in its rambling form. "Quite efficient, if you ask me."

"You'll never get away with this!"

_Gotta work this knot - slowly._

"Sorry, sweetie." She stepped closer. "The moment those tranquilizers entered your bloodstreams, we already did."

* * *

_We? Did Sara just say 'we'?_

Logan scrunched his brow in thought just as a head of light brown hair emerged into his line of sight. The owner of said brown hair passed a blatant orange container to Sara before turning around to face him.

"Philip Jack Morris." The name felt like a lament off his tongue at the sight of his former friend and partner. He felt Veronica shuffle behind him. With a sigh, Logan's eyes burned into the face before him. Woody Goodman, Richard Casablancas, and now Phil Morris - guess all-American good looks never did represent good character. "Managing tables got too boring for you?"

"I had no choice, man," the helplessness in his tone came as a surprise.

Logan scoffed. "Twenty percent of the profit still not enough?"

"It's not about the money. It's - "

"You don't have to explain to him, Morris," Sara's sharp tone cut him off thoughtlessly from behind. "When a man wants to keep his little angel around him more than his own head, he's had it coming."

"Jealous now, Sara?" He didn't need to see Veronica's face to hear the taunt in her remark. "The older sisters never did like Cinderella."

"Shut up!"

The rope against his neck instantly turned taut, cutting off half his breathing. He shuddered at the thought of Veronica literally in Sara's clutches.

"Sorry, dude, I asked her not to take her." Morris's apology only earned him a glare.

"Like you would care," Logan mustered with his limited air supply.

A thud accompanied a falling sensation as the front of his chair hit the ground once more. Veronica's gasps alternated with his own as they both regained control of their lungs.

"What were you thinking?" Logan growled at Morris as he felt the ropes around his wrist loosen fractionally.

_Go Veronica; I'll distract them._

Morris hung his head without turning away.

"What were you thinking?!" Logan shouted, eyes trained on the manager of The Marines.

"I had no choice, okay?" His hands flung up in sync with his defence. "I never approved of what Kurt was saying, but when Elise - "

"Hmph," Logan grunted back with incredulity. "So this is what it's all about? Mr. Single Dad can't resist the wiles of a wayward woman?"

The moisture in Morris's eyes took him by surprise.

"What did that witch do to you?"

"She promised me - she," Morris stuttered and licked his lips, "she said that she loved me."

"And you believed her?"

The splashes of more gasoline being poured out hit his ears like a hammer to a nail. Sara's as hardworking of a villain as she was a waitress, apparently.

_Time's running out._

"Morris, listen to yourself." He tried to speak calmly. "You think she really loved you? You think loving someone means abusing and hurting and using them?"

"She said - "

"It's not true, bro, it's not."

The ropes fell free from one of his fingers.

_Atta go, Bobcat._

"If someone loves you, she's going to listen, she's going to stay, and she's going to sacrifice herself for your safety." - he felt Veronica's hand squeeze his - "And the two of you would be willing to work things out together." - he squeezed back - "What did Elise do to you? Running away and letting you do the dirty work? That's not love, Phil."

"But it's the closest thing I - "

"Throw the lighter, chatterbox," Sara barked. To his right, Logan watched her saunter away backwards with a smirk on her face. When Morris didn't follow, she glared at him until he did. "So long, lovebirds. Just, imagine the swelling orchestra music."

He never had time to react.

A click, a toss, and a warehouse door snapped shut later, the room hit Fahrenheit 500.


	19. Breaking Point

Veronica gasped involuntarily as the first wave of smoke hit their spot. She struggled to pinch one more strand of rope free.

_Fog, smoke, brain can't think._

"I'm sorry."

_Seriously? We're dying here, and Logan is thinking of apologizing?_

"For what?" she blurted, gasping when pulling one knot had her almost strangling herself.

"For everything."

The fire's roar only made her angrier as the growing layers of sweat kept the ropes sticking tightly against their skin.

"No apology needed, buddy. You've done your share of penance."

They both cried out when she pulled their knotted hands the wrong way.

"I love you."

His simple confession felt equal parts apt and misfitted for the occasion. She blinked away the rising tears.

The last time she'd come this close to fire, she'd been trapped inside an old refrigerator, screaming till her lungs gave way. Her dad had saved her then. But at this very moment, neither of her heroes were exactly free to come to her aid.

It was all in her hands now - literally.

"I love you too, Lo, but you realize that we need to get out of here!" She tugged blindly at yet another loop.

"Yes, but will we?"

"Yes, we - "

"Veronica! Look around!"

The sad urgency in his voice forced her to pause.

_Of course they'll get out. They always will._

"Veronica, please."

The tears she'd forced back re-emerged with a vengeance. Still stubborn, she continued pulling at the knots; but this time, allowed her gaze to wander. And she refused to accept what she saw.

Billowing around them, flames over ten feet high taunted at the ceiling. The fire encircled them as hungrily as dancing savages do the boiling pot of their kill. Oxygen grew sparser by the second - two human beings no match for the inferno in the battle for air.

A nudge behind her made her turn. Logan's profile gestured towards the bottom of her chair.

Leaning over just far enough, she peeked at the small patch of cement floor right beneath her seat. She gulped - hard.

The villains sure took no chances.

She stared at the now-too-familiar black screen with tiny red numerals, numerals moving faster than the flames ever could. Last time was a bomb scare; this time was for real.

* * *

"It's not worth it, Veronica." His pleas were answered with only more desperate tugging at the ropes that attached them in the most unromantic of ways.

"It's always worth a try."

"But what if it's not?"

_What if this is it?_

"We'll be okay!" The rhythm of her tugs escalated along with the pitch of her voice.

"What if we're not, Veronica, what if we're not?!" His punctuated words channeled his persistent resignation. He took a second to lean back for a breath, the tight rope around his throat unrelenting. "I know you think we're invincible. I've always thought you were too. But if we've actually come to the end of the road, then there's no point wasting time trying to turn back."

A loud crash from a warehouse corner brought home his point.

"Veronica?" The tugging had suspiciously stopped.

He tried to turn his face as far back as he could without pulling any rope against her pipes. He blinked at the sight of his lover's golden locks lowered and shuddering all the way to her shoulders. Logan sighed.

"Veronica - "

"I love you." Her voice barely rose above the roaring flames.

The way his chest tightened brought him all the way back to the lobby of Trina's hotel. "I love you too."

_Life - no, death - just won't give us a break._

Logan took three more short breaths to compensate for a normal single one. Behind him, he sightlessly sought out his girlfriend's hands and secured them in his own.

Logan Echolls had long made peace with death - long before a bullet ran through the window of his car, long before his mother's swan dive off the Coronado Bridge, and long before his cheating first girlfriend had been brutally murdered. From the moment his father's belt buckle first tore through his shoulder in third grade, young Logan had accepted the reality of life's imminent expiration. It was, in fact, that constant idea of impending death that had transformed him into the carefree, hedonistic creature he'd always been.

_No regrets allowed if you're dying tomorrow._

A sniffling sound him brought him back to the moment.

Logan inhaled. He may have long accepted the reality of death and lived with it in sight, but Veronica hadn't. Her tenacity had been the very thing which drew him towards her in the first place. What Logan tolerated, Veronica challenged. What he accepted, she picked apart. And what he conceded to life, she fought with every last breath to keep.

He couldn't let her down now.

"Hey, Bobcat." He tugged at her hand, his vision fast blurring. "Guide me through this?"

He could almost picture the smile on her face as her fingers flew over the ropes still intricately wound around their hands, wordlessly showing him where to pull or to tug. A quick beep hit their ears.

They looked down - one minute.

Logan closed his eyes as another loud crash brought a nearby beam to the ground. In the heat of the raging furnace, he didn't expect to open them again.

A sharp gasp behind him made him turn. Her breaths were becoming as labored as his.

"Veronica?"

She squeezed his hand in reply.

Another digital beep poked their consciousness. He knew even before he peeked that another thirty seconds had gone all too quickly.

He grabbed her fingers tighter.

_This is it._

After more than twenty-five years of defying death, he'd finally have to meet it face to face.

"Watch out!"

The lovers turned simultaneously - he to his right and she to her left. A steady stream of white fumes indicated human intervention as it approached through the thick, black smoke.

Did someone actually see the fire in this godforsaken warehouse?

"Lester, quick, get her outta here." The wet handkerchief around his nose and mouth made a weak concealment of the manager's face. He coughed violently as he jabbed away at the ropes with his pocketknife.

"Ouch!" Logan cried at the sharp pain of a misplaced knife blow.

"Sorry, bro."

"It's fine." He untangled first.

With blind speed, he jumped up from his spot - blood still dripping from the back of his hand - and turned to Veronica's side. She was barely conscious.

"Logan - "

"Shhh."

Morris cut away the remaining ropes while Logan lifted her like a child. Two seconds later, Morris cleared a path with the fire extinguisher while he followed with Veronica against his chest.

A crash from the ceiling barely hit his ears before Logan lunged forward involuntarily, casting Veronica on the ground before him. Almost immediately, an excruciating pain scorched the back of his right calf. Logan looked back.

On the back of his right calf, a burning beam the thickness of a tree trunk pinned him down to his doom.

* * *

The hot floor hit her face like a scalding iron. She pulled up with a gasp.

It took only a second to re-establish her surroundings to her brain.

"Lester!"

She turned at the cry. Who's the man with the covered face?

She turned further back. Her eyes widened.

"Logan!" The fire couldn't cover her scream.

A white stream of carbon dioxide hit the spot where beam met leg while Veronica rushed to kneel by Logan's face.

"Logan, come on!"

"It's okay." His words squeezed out between heavy breathes. "Just leave me here."

"No!" She could slap him right there. "We're not going through this again. You know I'm not leaving without you!"

Another cry of pain escaped his lips.

"Morris, get her and go," Logan shouted to the other man.

_That's Phil Morris?_

The fire extinguisher stopped, leaving a three-feet diameter around Logan's leg temporarily free from fire.

"Phil - "

"No!" She answered before he even asked. Finding unexpected clarity in her fast-fading mind, she pushed herself up from the ground and towards the other end of Logan's body.

"Morris!" She had his attention instantly. "Help me push this thing off if it's the last thing you do."

"But he said - "

" _I_  am the federal agent!" she barked, her hands already against the wood. "If you leave him here, I'm staying here. And you're getting charged for the murder of a federal officer. You save him, you save me. And I will plead against your culpability. Clear?"

"Veronica - "

"Shut up, Lo." She turned back to their unlikely savior, a man now covered in soot. "Clear?!"

"Yes, ma'am."

When her hands touched the offending beam again, two others stationed beside hers.

"Okay, push!"

Their grunts of heavy lifting matched with Logan's moan of pain.

"Hang in there, Lo. Okay, one, two - "

A steady, synthetic pulse pierced the air.

_Ten seconds._

Ten seconds until everything would become irretrievably wrong. Ten seconds until -

"Push!"

The beam bulged just enough for Logan to scramble forward before crashing down to the ground once more.

"Now, run!"

One on each side, the businessman and the agent lifted their common friend off the floor and hit the ground running, with Logan rediscovering his footing at a remarkable speed. Two dozen steps and eight seconds later, three tiny figures jumped out the warehouse door with a fiery furnace exploding behind them.

 


	20. The Rest

The symphony of police and ambulance sirens hummed unrealistically softly against the ringing still pulsating in both his ears. He stared forward almost robotically as strangers bandaged his leg and hand.

_Logan Echolls cheats death - again._

His peripheral vision caught the image of a small blond agent walking his way. He flashed a smile, receiving one in return.

_Only because she saved me._

"You doing okay?"

The question forced him to pry his eyes off Veronica and direct them at the curly-haired man beside her. He cocked his head hello. "Fine and dandy, Agent Perkins. Could it have hurt to arrive a little earlier?"

Seth cleared his throat while Veronica scoffed.

_That's my girl._

"My apologies for the delayed arrival, Mr. Echolls. Mr. Morris had removed all tracking device we had on the two of you."

It was fun to see him fidget.

A signal from his paramedic had Logan examining his bandaged hand. The sincerity in his tone surprised even himself. "Be easy on him, okay?"

Everyone knew who the 'he' was.

"Agent Mars has given her account of Mr. Morris's efforts in saving the two of you. He will be given credit for that in trial."

Logan nodded. Somehow, he still couldn't think Phil a villain.

"And Sara?" He looked up, still bitter at how someone could be so heartless. She had five deaths on her tally - and she'd almost added two more.

"Authorities at LAX got her. The fingerprints from the plastic bags alone were enough grounds for arrest," Veronica replied. "She was headed for Sweden, but The Tom Bradley terminal is only so big. Thank God for stingy government airport funds."

He couldn't help but smile at her remark. "Guess hanging out with billionaires doesn't mean getting to live like one, huh?"

"Tell me about it."

And all three of them smiled.

"Alright, all done." The second paramedic, an older man with streaks of gray hair, stood up from the makeshift nursing station. "You were lucky those were only second-degree burns, Mr. Echolls. We'll get you a list of all the medication. Just remember to apply them faithfully. Good boys recover faster, kid."

"Thanks." Logan moved to stand up. Veronica rushed forward to help. "And this lady here will tell you how I've always been a very good boy."

Her eye-roll was accompanied by a sparkling smile.

_She makes everything okay._

Even against the background of whirring lights, shouting cops, and chaffed warehouse, she looked like a beautiful angel. She'd been hot in her soccer uniform at twelve, and she was still burning desire into his soul with disheveled hair, burned hair, and soot in place of make-up.

How he wanted to kiss her now - Seth and paramedics be damned.

He started to lean down.

"Agent Mars!"

_Stupid FBI._

She turned to face the direction of the voice, but her right arm still stayed firmly around his waist. He pulled her close by the shoulder.

"Agent Stone," she spoke with a nod of her head.

"Well done, Agent Mars!" The older officer spoke almost theatrically, large hands in the air and all. He extended his hand to Veronica, making her let Logan go to shake it. "I am thoroughly impressed. I asked for one murderer, you gave me a drug trade from top to bottom. Wonderful work!"

For a moment, Logan smiled. He'd always known her to be amazing. It was nice to see others affirm the same thing.

"And now, Agent Mars." The man wasn't done yet. "When would you be able to take up the next assignment? I wouldn't want talent like you sitting behind a desk again."

_Next assignment?_

He hoped she didn't hear his heart dropping to the ground.

_We just escaped a life-threatening inferno, and all he can think of is the next assignment?_

"I'm very honored, Agent Stone." Her voice cut through his thoughts.

Logan looked at the handshake between the two agents, still going on.

"It's my privilege to be part of this task force," she continued.

His hand dropped involuntarily from her shoulder; he stepped back.

_She's still an agent, Logan._

"I will forever love being part of the FBI."

The chilly night air felt almost as suffocating as the fire.

_She's not yours to keep._

He closed his eyes. Why had he ever thought otherwise? Veronica Mars - work first, relationships second. Hadn't he told himself that the very night she'd swept back into his life?

"But sir, as much as I am honored," she hadn't stopped speaking. He tried to refocus. "I think I would have to decline."

The world spun again.

_Decline? Is she -_

"But Agent Mars, someone of your talent and skill - "

"I've had enough, sir." Her voice was calm, assured. "This death and destruction? I can't take any more without getting destroyed myself. It's - it's not something I can choose anymore."

Agent Stone was nodding - that had to be a good sign.

"And what  _do_ you choose, Miss Mars?"

Logan didn't bulge until he felt her slender fingers entwining with his. He glanced down at their joined hands, and then at her. She wasn't looking at him.

He looked back at Agent Stone.

"Well, sir." Her voice sounded light - happy. "I choose the other thing - also known as 'the rest of my life.'"

She was pulling him away before he remembered to smile.

And then he couldn't stop smiling.

* * *

"You sure you won't regret that?" He asked with a kiss to her forehead. It took serious balancing skills to walk as they did - arms snaked around each other.

"Nope," she replied, kicking pebbles along the way to the car Chris had driven over for them. "Actually been thinking of it for a while."

"A while?" His muscles pulled her in tighter.

She smiled and shrugged, still walking. "I guess being almost killed so many times does things to you, you know?"

"Ah, things like wishing we'd pay more attention as a girl scout."

They both laughed as she nudged his side.

"You know what I mean, Lo."

_But, of course, he wanted her to say it._

But he just smiled this time, and she smiled back. "Yeah, I know."

They shared a squeeze and strolled on.

"So, now that you're officially unemployed," he still spoke with a grin to his voice, "what would you be planning on doing? No more dangerous PI work, I hope?"

That made her stop.

She pulled back to look up at him, her eyes searching his. "What if I did?"

"I'd still support you, of course," he responded instantly, hands on her shoulders. "But I just - well, you know - I never did prefer the type of work you did. There's nothing wrong with the work, of course. But I'd just prefer something - well, safer?"

His furrowed brow and blank sincerity made disaster feel thousands of miles away rather than just a few yards behind them.

"I understand," she conceded. How could she not by now? "But with my skill set, there's not a lot of job options out there for me. And" - her index finger flew over his lips - "I will  _not_  be a stay-at-home, trophy girlfriend."

Logan laughed as he kissed and removed her finger. Their hands intertwined once more.

"Actually," he leaned forward, pressing their faces close, as he stage-whispered, "I've heard of this place that needed a new head of security and manager."

"Oh?"

"Yeah." His tone was ridiculously conspiratory. "It's a subterranean club in LA called The Marines - quite fancy, I've heard. Their latest manager had to quit for undisclosed reasons. But I have a feeling that you'd fit right in."

Even a bitten lower lip couldn't force away her smile.

"So say, if I wish to take this job." Her hands roamed up to play with his collar. "Would I be payed?"

"Handsomely, I'm sure."

"Healthcare?"

"Best in town."

"Employer benefits?"

"Off the charts - lodging, chauffeuring, and even weekly back rubs."

"Weekly?" She raised an eyebrow. "That's kinda stingy."

"I'm sure you could haggle for daily if your performance is up to par."

It was his turn to press a finger to her lips before she could protest.

He pressed their foreheads together before she removed his hand.

"One last question."

"Okay?"

"Just - theoretically - if I were to take this job." She paused to inhale his scent - classic Logan with a hint of burnt wood. "When would the job interview be?"

He smiled - wide and happy. "Now."

And he pressed his lips to hers.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my humble take on the "epic LoVe story" genre - lives ruined, bloodshed, and the whole package. That genre really should have it's own section, don't you think? :)


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